


Waking From This Coma Life

by DontSqueezeTheCharmie



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-01-30 06:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21423415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontSqueezeTheCharmie/pseuds/DontSqueezeTheCharmie
Summary: Oliver is living two lives, one with his wife, and another at his apartment in the city that he keeps during the week. How long can he keep up this double life?
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 367
Kudos: 379





	1. Two Lives

**Author's Note:**

> So, I banged this out today...my first E/O fic! Elio will appear soon..I promise! It's also my first fic told in the first person. Eek! This chapter is quite short (possibly the shortest chapter I've ever posted?) because I had limited time today, but I will write more this weekend..or sooner, if I can!
> 
> This is movie canon, not book canon.

Chapter 1

Two Lives

May, 1985

“I am definitely staying in tonight,” I promised myself, dropping down onto my worn sofa and picking up the remote for the ancient black-and-white t.v. set that I had bought at a garage sale a few months back. Second-hand purchases for my “home away from home,” Mondays through Thursdays: a Manhattan walk-up, rented to keep me from having to make the nightly trek back to our family house in Connecticut. It had been a hard-fought war, convincing Rachel that this place was a necessity. But it had been a fight worth winning- not just to save the miles on my car and the hours of my life, but to save my own sanity. I needed a place where I could let down my mask. A place where I could breathe and not be studied, questioned, and remarked upon. 

“Is everything alright, Oliver? You seem upset, Oliver. Why won’t you talk to me, Oliver? I feel like we are drifting apart, Oliver.”

I’d come to hate the sound of my own name.

I started flipping through the channels; the pickings were slim, as per usual on a Thursday night. Ripley’s Believe It or Not, Simon and Simon, a repeat of an episode of Cheers … I threw down the remote in a fit of frustration and restlessness and walked to the window, looking out at the bustling city below. People living the lives that they had chosen with their own free will, lives that left them feeling happy, complete, and fulfilled. What must that feel like?

And this is how it always started. I’d make a vow to be good after a long day at the university- to stay in, make some dinner, watch a little mindless television, and go to bed. I was always able to keep this promise on Monday, and again on Tuesday…usually on Wednesday. But by Thursday, the realization that my freedom for the week was coming to a close, and the mask was going to have to be lowered again by this time tomorrow…it fueled the ache to get out and indulge in what I really wanted…what the _real me _was longing for, if only for a few hours.

To find a nearby gay bar or club--anonymously, always-- and be among others like me. Indulge in some harmless flirting; if I was drunk enough, maybe some dancing. A few times, I had slipped and had found myself in dark corner of the club, with someone’s tongue down my throat and his hands down my pants. But I’d always put an end to it before it got out of control. I’d never brought a man back to this apartment, no matter how drunk or horny I had been.

It was out of respect for Rachel and for my marriage. This was the lie that I told myself. But if I was being honest with myself….harshly, unrelentingly honest…it wasn’t because of Rachel.

It was because of Elio, the last man I’d been with, almost two years ago. I wasn’t ready to replace the memory of his lips, his hands, his cock, with another. So I would inevitably pull back, an apologetic smile on my face, a quick excuse on my lips. Then I'd return to my sad, empty apartment, half hard from the hot bodies at the club, and touch myself, and think of Elio.

And so it went tonight. What was left of my weak resolve dissolved in a few defiant thoughts: _I’m a grown man. If I want to go out and have a drink, why should I feel bad about that? It’s just one drink_

I continued to tell this untruth to myself as I opened my closet and pawed through the small collection of polo shirts and button-ups I kept at the apartment. Nothing really appropriate for a New York gay club, but I’d also never gotten a complaint. I chose a light green short-sleeved shirt, changed into jeans, grabbed my wallet, and headed out into the warm spring night. A shiver of anticipation worked its way down my back, replacing the niggling guilt that I’d been trying to ignore for the past hour.

I walked the ten or so blocks to Uncle Charlie’s on Greenwich Ave; the bouncer gave me an appreciative once-over and waved me in. It was still early for a Thursday; only half the tables were occupied and the dance floor was empty. I walked to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic, having to shout over Madonna’s booming vocals, imploring everyone to get into the groove. I found an empty bar stool to occupy, took a long sip of my drink and gave a sigh of relief. 

I would continue to wear the acceptable hat of husband and professor for most of my life, but this was an outlet that I physically craved and would not, could not give up. I took another sip of my drink and wondered what adventures the night held for me.


	2. Hazy Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver heads out for a night in the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the positive reception this fic has gotten! I feel very out of my comfort zone, but I'm having fun with it :D

Chapter 2

Hazy Nights

The bartender at Charlie’s knew me by face, if not by name, and he was diligent at keeping my glass full. By 11, I had a healthy buzz and decided to wander from my secure place at the bar to see if anyone interesting had arrived that night. I was still sober enough to have fairly high standards- not just any pretty face would do. And, despite trying to branch out to other types, I found myself attracted again and again to young, lanky brunettes with curly hair and soulful eyes.

These boys were all inferior alternatives, of course. This is why I would always try to chat up guys that were against type: tall, Nordic blondes, muscular Latinos, silver-haired professionals. I’d had some great conversations and met some interesting men this way; I’d even kissed a few of them. But by the end of the night, after my fourth or fifth drink, I always returned to seeking out my Elio substitute. And the more I’d had to drink, the easier it was to pretend.

This particular night, I was feeling more melancholy than usual. Rachel and I had had a rough week; she was pressuring me to give up the apartment so we could spend more time together and “work on our marriage.” She had the muscle of my parents behind her but, to her credit, it was rare that she called on them to back her up. 

I knew that I owed her at least an attempt at strengthening our marriage, but what she was asking of me was far too much. Just the thought of giving up the piece of me that was able to live and breathe when I was in the city, away from her, was almost unfathomable. I dressed my excuses up in the disguise of practicality- the drive, my work. If only she knew the true reason I needed to live apart from her for more than half my waking hours. It was horrifically unfair to her; I at least still had enough self-awareness to realize that.

The situation was unsustainable and also, in my judgement clouded quite completely by alcohol, unsolvable. So I ordered another drink. My fourth…or perhaps fifth? I had lost count, and honestly, I didn’t care to count. The guilt was fading away, being thankfully replaced by a growing hunger and restlessness. 

So, I abandoned the security of my bar stool to roam the club. It was getting crowded and the air was murky with cigarette smoke. I was a non-smoker six nights of the week, but I would often indulge in my old habit on these nights out. I lit one now as I made my way through the crowd of bodies; I felt the eyes of almost every man I passed scrutinize me, but I didn’t see a single face that interested me.

I made my way to the very back of the club and leaned against the wall to finish my cigarette. The music was beginning to tend towards disco, as it often did as the hours got later. I was considering moving on to the next venue when I felt a firm hand on my elbow. I looked up and into a set of pretty dark eyes attached to a boy, not much older than Elio had been two summers ago.

He gave a soft smile and leaned in close to talk above the din of the music. “Hey! Can I bum a smoke?” Typical opening line.

“Sure. Help yourself,” I answered, handing the open pack over to him. He lit one up, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Thanks. I’m Devin.” His words slurred; he was obviously even drunker than me. He was very thin but objectively good-looking. His long eyelashes almost brushed against the top of his eyelids; his jawline was strong and defined. As he waited for a response from me, a pink tongue slipped out of his mouth and wet his lips. My cock twitched with the beginning bud of interest.

I leaned down to reply into his ear. “Nice to meet you Devin. I’m Edward.” My standard fake identity: Edward, a dentist from Queens.

Devin gave a wolfish grin as his free hand wrapped around my waist. “Do you mind me telling you, Edward…that you are so fucking hot?”

Eloquent.

I smiled, trying to decide if I was drunk enough to reciprocate his compliment, or if it was time to move on. I felt his hand tighten on my waist, then move slowly to my ass. He was cute, and definitely my type, but maybe a bit bold for my taste. Time to move on.

“Thanks for the compliment, Devin, but I was just about to get going. Maybe I’ll see you around some other time.”

Devin looked put out at my apparent rejection; he turned on his heels and walked away through the crowd without another word or a backward glance. I looked at my watch. 11:25pm. Perfect time to hit Rawhide, then head home.

The air had gotten cooler in the hours I’d been inside, but it felt good after the sweaty heat of Uncle Charlie’s. The walk to Rawhide, a little over a mile away, would give me a chance to sober up a bit. My head felt fuzzy and my eyes were half-closed as I made my way up 6th. I started thinking about Devin, wondering if I should have given him more of a chance, but when I tried to picture his face, another set of eyes, green instead of brown, appeared in my mind. I thought of those eyes, and then his face, hovering over me in bed, laughing and teasing. I was just drunk enough to lean into the image rather than shake it away.

Elio… ElioElioElioElio

I could hear the raucous music coming from Rawhide before I could even see the building. Rawhide was my favorite bar for a nightcap. They played actual rock music (AC/DC was blaring from the windows at the moment); they had cheap drinks, and friendly bartenders. The clientele was very mixed- everyone from closeted dads from the suburbs to stereotypical butch gays in leather chaps danced together on the huge dance floor. I also liked it because its enormous size meant I could either stay invisible, or find someone to flirt with, depending on my mood.

The bouncer recognized me and nodded me in; I headed towards the bar (with a great deal of effort) to order my last drink of the night. It was almost midnight and the bar was close to capacity. Bodies were everywhere, pressed together tight, and the temperature must have topped 80 degrees. I got my drink and smiled as I recognized the opening notes of “Sunday, Bloody Sunday.” My limbs were loose and I moved easily to the music.

A hot body was suddenly pressing up against me; I looked down to see a good-looking blond kid, maybe 20 or so, trying to get my attention.

“Do you want to dance?” he yelled into my ear. He wasn’t my usual type, but I loved the song, and I was feeling pretty good. I nodded and followed him to the packed dance floor. We elbowed our way to a space just big enough for our two bodies to sway to the music. The dance floor was jammed with hot, writhing bodies; a lot of them had shed their shirts at some point during the night. I opened a few of the buttons at the throat of my shirt, in a vain attempt to cool off. My dance partner grinned with approval.

“I’m Stephen!” he yelled over the music.

I was just about to give my usual fake identify, when we were interrupted by a sudden surge of bodies pushing into us. A fight? I craned my neck to get a better view of the situation behind us, my height giving me some advantage, but it was still difficult to see in the dark club. A man seemed to have fallen into the crowd; I heard someone behind me say, “Oh man, he is fucked up!”

I backed up to give the crowd some space; my dance partner was pulling at me to move to a different spot on the dance floor. I was about to turn to follow him, when my eyes caught sight of the man on the floor, struggling to return to him feet despite his debilitating inebriation. He was shaking off the hands that were trying to help him up, but then inevitably stumbling back down, his brown curls falling into his eyes, again and again.

I froze in shock. It was Elio, his eyes rolling back in his head, his lips parted and wet. He was barely coherent, extremely belligerent, and, despite these things, still breathtakingly beautiful.


	3. The Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver takes care of a very drunk Elio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had a mind of its own. Hope it makes sense!

Chapter 3

The Caretaker

I pushed through the dense crowd to reach Elio; he had gotten back up on his feet, but was doubled over, either in pain, with nausea, or maybe just from extreme intoxication. I searched through the mass of bodies to try and figure out who he had been dancing with, but no one wanted to claim him.

“Did anyone see who he was with?” I asked the crowd around him. 

Most of the men ignored me or gave noncommittal shrugs; one older man shouted back, “He was dancing with someone, but they ditched him when they realized how drunk he is.”

I sighed. This scene could be the worst sometimes.

Elio hadn’t noticed me yet, so I took a moment to look him over. He was wearing a thin tank top, ripped jeans and high tops. His hair was quite a bit longer than when I knew him two summers ago, and the length had grown out into beautiful curls. He had filled out some, his shoulders seemed broader and his arms showed evidence of muscle, but he was still quite thin.

“Probably still a light-weight,” I thought. If he had anywhere near as much to drink as I had that night, no wonder he has so drunk.

I turned to Stephen, who was, surprisingly enough, still waiting for me to keep dancing.

“I know this boy; I’m going to help him find his friends,” I yelled to him over the music. He shrugged, nodded, and left to find another dance partner.

I turned back to Elio, who was attempting to stand up straight. I wanted to help him, but I was terrified at what his reaction to me would be. Two long years, and we’d had no contact since that fateful phone call in the winter of 1983. Would he even speak to me? I took a deep breath and put my hand on shoulder.

“Elio? Are you okay? Let me help you find your friends.”

Elio looked up at me with a startle, and I could now see how wasted he was. His eyes were unfocused and glassy, and his body was so unsteady, I would need to help him off the dance floor. He stared at me for a moment, blinking rapidly, as if he were trying to clear his vision. Finally, he spoke.

“You look like Oliver…”

I swallowed and decided to leave that statement alone for the moment. 

“Who are you here with, Elio? Let me help get you home.”

I helped him off the dance floor with considerable difficulty. The club had gotten even more crowded and bodies were swaying and jumping everywhere. Elio let most of his weight fall onto me; he seemed almost incapable of walking. I finally got him off the dance area and found a chair for him to sit on. I tried again to get some information out of him.

“Elio, where are your friends? Where are you staying?”

No answer. His eyes were starting to close. Fuck.

I was starting to feel desperate, so I felt his pockets, hoping to find a wallet or something with his address. His pockets were empty, and he was quickly losing consciousness. I patted his cheeks with my hands.

“Come on, Elio; stay awake. Let’s get out of here. It isn’t safe for you here.”

It was probably a terrible idea, but it was the only one I could come up with. I would take him back to my place to sober up.

____________________________________________________________

We made it outside and I somehow got Elio into a taxi. The cab driver glanced at us in his rearview mirror.

“Is he gonna be aright? I don’t want anyone pukin’ in my cab.”

“He’s fine. Just a little tired.” I answered, with a silent prayer that Elio would last the fifteen minute cab ride to my apartment without throwing up. He rested his head on my shoulder and, within seconds, was snoring soundly.

I gave a heavy sigh and wondered how the hell I had gotten myself into this situation. But then I looked down at his mop of curls, resting on my shoulder, and my stomach lurched. As bad as this predicament was, my heart couldn’t help but ache at the sight of Elio next to me. It was at once everything I have ever wanted and everything I dreaded. If circumstances were different, I would have taken Elio to bed, sobered him up, and never let him go. But, as things were, I needed to get him back to his own world as quickly as possible, before we hurt each other more than we already had.

Elio wouldn’t wake up when we got to my building, so I convinced the cab driver with a $20 bill to help me get him up the three flights of stairs to my apartment. He left us at my front door with a skeptical look.

“Good luck. He’s gonna be hurtin’ tomorrow.”

I thanked him again, and lugged Elio through my small apartment to my bedroom. I would give him the bed for the night; he was going to feel bad enough tomorrow without an ache in his neck from my uncomfortable second-hand sofa.

I pulled off his high-tops and jeans, and placed the trash can next to him on the floor, just in case. I propped him up on all my pillows, hoping that would lessen the chance of him throwing up in the middle of the night. I left some water and aspirin next to the bed, and pulled the blankets over his shoulders to keep him warm. I felt oddly parental towards him and had to resist the urge to plant a soft kiss on his forehead before leaving the room, hoping he would be okay. He never woke.

I brushed my own teeth and stripped down to my undershirt and boxers. I took out the extra pillow and blanket from the linen closet and attempted to find a comfortable position on that wretched couch. I knew I would get little sleep that night. I was extremely grateful that my first class in the morning wasn’t until 10am. That was my last thought before I slipped into a fitful sleep.

______________________________________________________

I slept lightly, keeping a vigilant ear open for sounds of Elio coming from the next room. Sure enough, a few hours later, I heard him rustling in the bed, followed by a groan of pain. I lay still for a moment, trying to decide if I should check on him, before getting up and tip-toeing to the door.

I opened the door a crack and peeked in. Elio had turned on the light and was sitting up in the bed, looking around the room. He had a look of utter confusion on his face. I took a deep breath- here went nothing.

I opened the door all the way and stepped in. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

His head snapped up and his eyes grew wide as he realized exactly where he was.

“Oliver! Fuck….how did I get here?”

I glanced at the clock next to my bed- 3:16am. Only a few hours had passed since I had put Elio to bed; most likely he was still drunk.**_ I_** still felt a bit drunk.

I sat down on the end of the bed, near his feet.

“We were at the same club, Rawhide. You were a mess. You could barely stand. I wanted to help you find your friends, but you weren’t talking and I couldn’t find your ID to get you home. So I brought you here. I hope that’s alright.”

Elio suddenly bolted up straight. “My jacket! My jacket has my wallet in in. Fuck! It must still be at the club. Did you say we were at Rawhide?”

I nodded. He put his head in his hands. “I don’t even remember being there. The last bar I remember is China Cat. Fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

I patted his leg in sympathy; he looked up at me, as if he had just remembered that I was there.

“You took care of me. Thank you, Oliver.”

Then he was suddenly out of the blankets and at my side, kneeling next to my hips.

“You look so good, Oliver,” he whispered; then, before I could stop him, he had pressed his lips against mine. I was startled, and the soft heat of his lips felt so incredible that it took me a moment to come to my senses and pull away.

“Elio, stop. We can’t….”

He fell back against the headboard of my bed, a sullen look clouding his face.

“Why not?” he asked simply.

‘Why not?’ I repeated to myself. It would be so easy to just give it to it. To take Elio in my arms and live out every dream I’d had of him for the last two years. But it wasn’t the time, it is was EVER going to be the time.

“Well, the two big reasons that come to my mind are that you are still drunk and I am still married.”

He scoffed at this. “Yeah? That’s your reason? And what’s a married, straight man doing cruising Rawhide in the middle of the week?”

I felt my face flush at this brutally honest assessment of my situation.

“That’s none of your business, Elio.” I picked up the glass of water and handed it to him. “Here, drink some water and get some more sleep. We can talk in the morning. And we can talk about why you were so drunk last night. It was concerning.”

He raised his eyebrow, the same sassy Elio that I knew two summers before. “Concerning? I am **_not_** your concern anymore, Oliver. Also, it IS morning. We can talk now.”

I regarded him for a moment, then couldn’t help but smile. “You’re right, it IS morning, but I need more sleep and so do you. I have work, and you have…school? Take the aspirin and go to sleep.”

He took the water and shrugged. “I’m done for the semester.” He downed the aspirin and took a large swallow of water. He started to get out of bed.

“I’m going to head out. I don’t need to be babied, and this whole situation has been pretty fucking mortifying.”

I stopped him and pushed him back down on the bed.

“Elio. Don’t be dumb; it’s 3am. Just go back to sleep….please?”

He sighed and delivered one of his best pouts, but seemed to give in. He settled back into the bed; I turned off the light and took his glass to refill. As I was walking away, I heard his voice, so quiet it barely completed the journey to my ears.

“Thank you, Oliver.”

I eventually fell back asleep and when I woke again at 8am, the bedroom door was open. Elio was gone.


	4. Navigating a Dishonest Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver heads home for the weekend, and has a lot to deal with there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my readers for the incredible support you have given me in my Eliver endeavor! It still terrifies me to write E/O, but it helps to know that you are all enjoying it. 
> 
> Thank you to @hendricksplease for looking over this chapter for me, providing suggestions and edits, and reining in my excessive use of semi-colons ;)

Chapter 4

Navigating a Dishonest Life

I stood in the bedroom doorway, experiencing a sudden sense of loss. I had kept Elio at arm’s length while I had him, and now he was gone. Regret washed over me like acid rain…I hadn’t even found out where he lived or where he was going to school (although I knew from talking with Sami a year ago that he had gotten into Juilliard).

I walked over to my bed, the sheets a twisted, jumbled mess from Elio’s drunken sleep. Against my better judgement, I lifted the top pillow to my nose and gave a tentative sniff- the scent of stale alcohol and smoke was dominant, but underneath, there was a faint whiff of chamomile…a scent I will forever associate with Elio. My heart beat wildly against my ribcage with an ache I hadn’t felt in months. I pressed the pillow firmly against my face and inhaled deeply.

All at once, I felt something being set into motion deep inside of me that I knew I would not be able to stop or reverse. A feeling that I had packed far away, wrapped in layers of denial and duplicity. But in one night, all that wrapping had been ripped away, and I was laid bare to face this heartache again, as fresh and sharp as it had been two years ago.

I replaced the pillow on the bed, collapsing onto it with a sigh. I took a quick glance at my nightstand clock; it was time to get ready for work and, from there, head back to Connecticut. To fulfill my obligations with a smile; try to be the husband that Rachel deserved for the short time that she had me. My head hung with the heavy weight of my selfishness. If I could be any different, I would.

_____________________________________________

Work went by quickly, as it usually did on Fridays, when I was wishing for time to slow. I finished my last class by 2pm, collected my car, and headed north, hoping that traffic wouldn’t be too horrific. By 4pm, I was pulling into my driveway, a tiny seed of anxiety starting to grow with each passing moment.

I never knew what to expect when I returned home for the weekend. Some Fridays, Rachel was just happy to see me, and we would cook dinner, maybe watch a movie, then spend Saturday and Sunday doing chores and running errands. But other weekends, perhaps when the loneliness of the week had been gnawing at her, leaving her raw and exposed, she would immediately start nagging at me to give up the apartment- to come home every night and be a proper husband.

The front door of our modest Cape-Cod style house was unlocked, meaning that Rachel was home. I set my keys down on the table in our foyer, and caught the scent of cooking. That was usually a good sign; Rachel only cooked when she was feeling happy and domestic. I made my way to the kitchen and found her stirring something at the stove. I was surprised to see her in a dress and apron, her chestnut hair curled and her face done with careful makeup. I still cared for her enough to recognize her beauty.

“Whatever you are cooking smells great. And you look very pretty. What’s the occasion?” I delivered my usual peck on her cheek, then peered into the pot- something dark and savory was bubbling.

She smiled at me brightly; I was grateful that she was in such as upbeat mood.

“Welcome home! Didn’t I tell you? Your parents are coming for dinner.”

I froze. She and I both knew that she had not mentioned this nugget of information to me. Rachel got along brilliantly with both of my parents; they adored her and treated her like gold. But she was well aware that my feelings toward them were much more complicated and not always favorable.

I took a step back. “As a matter of fact, no- you didn’t mention it to me. That would have been nice to know.”

I was being peevish, but I didn’t care. She stroked my arm in an attempt to soothe me.

“Didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Oliver. I thought that I had told you when we spoke on the phone last. Wednesday was it?” She eyed me, gaining the upper hand with that one phrase. I had promised to call on Thursday, and I never had.

Her eyebrows knit in a concerned expression; she did not want to fight. “I really _am_ sorry. It will be fine. They are looking forward to seeing us. When was the last time you spoke to them?”

I shook my head; I had no idea when it had been. “It’s fine. Let me go change and wash up. When are we expecting them?”

She gave a smile, relieved that I was giving in without too much fuss. “They should be here in the next hour. Go relax for a bit. I’ll take care of everything.”

__________________________________________________________

My parents arrived soon after, and dinner was blessedly uneventful. We talked about my work, Rachel’s third grade class of students, my parents’ upcoming cruise through the Panama Canal, and Rachel’s greatest passion, our garden. Dinner and dessert were done, and we had retired to our living room for coffee. It was late, about the time that my parents usually headed home, and I was thankful that the night had gone without incident.

My father stretched, as if he were about to stand, but then suddenly turned to me.

“So, Oliver….when are you going to stop wasting money on that ridiculous apartment in Manhattan, and stay home with your wife like a good husband should?”

My spine stiffened with the unexpected attack. It felt coordinated, planned.

I pursed my lip, silencing the snarky answer that I wanted to give. Instead, I presented him with a measured stare and replied, as calmly as I could, “That conversation is between me and Rachel, and she understands all of the reasons why I need the apartment.”

My mother chose this moment to chime in. “Does she? That isn’t the impression I have gotten. And what about when you have children, Oliver? You can’t be a father from 90 miles away.”

I almost choked on my coffee at the mention of children.

“Children? Rachel isn’t even pregnant!” A sudden wave of dread passed over me. I turned my attention to Rachel, who had been sitting quietly through this entire exchange.

“Are…are you?” Could she possibly have told my parents news like that before she even told me?

She rolled her eyes, as if the idea were ridiculous. “Of course I’m not pregnant, Ollie. Do you really think your parents would know before you? Give me a little credit, please. But your mom makes a good point. We are going to start a family soon, and you need to be closer. This little experiment has gone on long enough.”

The three of them sat staring at me, waiting for a reply. _Traitors, all of them, _I thought. Resentment coursed through my veins like bitter blood. Who were these people to tell me how to live my life? But then it occurred to me….if my wife and parents all disagree with how I am living my life, either they didn’t really know me, or I was making terrible mistakes with my life choices. Something had to give.

“Message received.” I retorted firmly. “Rachel and I will discuss this further at a later time, I promise. Now, can we please move on to more pleasant topics?”

I knew that I would only be able to punt that particular ball down the field so many times before I had to face it. Should I keep fighting and chance losing my wife, or should I give in and lose myself?

__________________________________________________

The weekend was a particular tense one between me and Rachel. The question of children seemed to hang between us like spoiled fruit, ready to be picked then disposed of. We each kept busy in and around the house, and were cordial when our paths crossed. But the inevitability of that particular conversation, and the dread that we both seemed to have regarding it, kept us from truly communicating or connecting in any meaningful way for most of the weekend.

Sunday night, I was organizing paperwork in my office, preparing for the coming workweek, when Rachel appeared in the doorway, hesitant yet determined.

“We need to talk, Ollie.”

I nodded despite the pit of dread forming in my stomach. “Of course, Rae. Let’s go to the couch.”

We sat on the small sofa, facing each other. She had initiated this conversation, so I waited for her to speak. She gnawed on a hangnail, a nervous habit she’d had since I met her when she was 19; she regarded me with sadness in her eyes. Finally she spoke.

“I want to start trying, Ollie. I’m 27. My biological clock is ticking so loudly, it’s drowning out my other thoughts. All of our friends already have children. Some have more than one! Don’t you think it’s time?” Her eyes pleaded with me to agree.

What could I say? Children were the last thing that I wanted right now. But I had to buy myself some time, until I figured out the right thing to do.

“Maybe you’re right. Why don’t you make an appointment with your doctor to find out what you need to do to prepare. Won’t you need pre-natal vitamins or something? We need to do this right.”

I was unprepared for how happy and relieved that answer would make her. Her face lost its sheen of stress and sadness, and a sparkle suddenly appeared in her eyes. It broke my heart a bit, knowing that giving her so little gave her such joy.

“Oh, Ollie! I’m so happy to hear you say that!”

I swallowed down the lump of guilt that was stuck in my throat as she drew me into a grateful hug.

I was a terrible, terrible person.

_________________________________________________

We made love that night, and I am ashamed to admit that, as I pushed into her with my eyelids closed, it was Elio’s face that I saw. I wondered- now that I had let him back into my life, even for a night, would I ever again be able to sleep with my wife without his visage appearing in my mind? I felt ruined.

I went to work Monday, tired and distracted. I was eager to return to my apartment that night, to see if his scent had lingered on my pillow; to look at my sheets, still in disarray, and picture him tangled up in them, sleeping soundly. I wanted to wrap my brain around the puzzle of how to see him again….

I somehow got through my workday; I stopped and grabbed some groceries, then headed home. I was in my kitchen, putting the perishables into the refrigerator, when three faint taps echoed through the door. I hesitated, unsure if they were knocks, or perhaps someone walking by. The noise didn’t repeat, but I went to the door just to check.

I opened the door a few feet, but there was no one there. I stepped out into the hallway and saw a lanky form walking quickly towards the elevator. I would recognize that long stride anywhere.

“Elio?” I called out.

He turned on his heels towards my voice, his voice cracking with relief when he saw me. “Oliver. Thank god.”


	5. A Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Elio reunite... sober.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but hopefully sweet chapter. The same night will continue in the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my wonderful readers. I am happy and relieved that you are all enjoying reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it! And thank you for all your Kudos and comments. I love comments!
> 
> And a huge thank you to my Beta reader/punctuation police officer, @hendricksplease. I am not sure if I will ever be able to write anything ever again without your input! xoxox

Chapter 5

A Reunion

Elio walked towards me, relief evident on his face. He looked tired. His face was pale and drawn and he was wearing a wrinkled polo shirt, sagging jeans, and a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead, messy curls spilling out the back.

“What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“I needed to find you, but I couldn’t remember which apartment was yours. I tried three doors before this one.” His voice was low and scratchy. I had to smile at his determination. My heart was also threatening to explode with the astonishing sight of him in my hallway. There would be no need for me to don my detective cap and scour the city for him, after all.

“Well, you’ve found me. Why don’t you come inside? Would you like a beer?”

Elio followed me inside, into my small kitchen. It was a bit overwhelming having him back in my personal space. I was sober now, and my emotions were much clearer, sharper. I handed him a beer and we both took a long swallow from our respective bottles, each eyeing the other cautiously. Even though he was the one who had appeared in my hallway, he didn’t seem inclined to start the conversation. I was reminded of a nervous stray cat, cornered in an alley. I knew I needed to approach him slowly and gently so as not to startle him away.

I thought of a safe topic to broach. “So, were you able to track down your wallet?”

Elio began peeling the label off of his beer bottle. He kept his head down as he spoke. “Yeah. The bartender found my jacket at Rawhide and put it behind the bar. Thank god. It’s such a pain in the ass when you lose your wallet.”

My eyebrows shot up. “This has happened to you before?”

Elio gave a noncommittal shrug, which I took as a yes. I had a vision of Elio, wandering the city wasted, leaving various possessions in his wake. I hoped that that wasn’t the case.

His head was still dropped, and he was visibly guarded, as if he were here against his will. I reminded myself that he had come looking for me, not the other way around. Maybe I needed to remind him of that.

“I’m happy that you came back. I had hoped that we could talk Friday morning. I was disappointed when I saw that you had left. So… what’s up?”

Elio took a deep breath and looked up at me. He looked so uneasy, and younger than he had Thursday night. I wanted to take him in my arms right there and tell him that everything would somehow be alright. That whatever it was that was bothering him, we could face it together.

I shook off the ridiculous thought.

He finally spoke. “I… I wanted to thank you again. I know I was in a bad state, and you were there for me. I just wanted you to know that I appreciate what you did. Bringing me here, keeping me safe.”

He struggled to get these words out, as if the very act of speaking was uncomfortable for him. His vulnerability squeezed my heart.

“Of course, Elio. What else could I do? It terrified me to see you that way.”

I decided to take the plunge and address my worry.

“Elio, you were _so drunk_ Thursday night. I shudder to think what might have happened to you if I hadn’t found you. Was this a one-time thing, or do you get that way often?”

Elio didn’t respond. He continued to peel the label off of the bottle, avoiding my eyes like a naughty child facing his angry parent. I sighed with frustration.

“Elio, please look at me.” He reluctantly lifted his head to meet my eyes. Something painful- embarrassment or perhaps even shame - was evident in his expression.

“Why do you care, Oliver?” He tried to make his words sharp, but they lacked any real bite. I reached out and l placed a hand on his arm; he winced, but didn’t pull away.

“I care because I care about _you_, Elio. How can you possibly think otherwise?”

Elio maintained eye contact for a long moment, but didn’t answer. Eventually, he pushed away from the counter and walked out of the kitchen into the main living space; I followed closely behind.

“So, where’s your wife?” He wandered over to my desk and picked up a textbook sitting there. “Are you two separated?”

I couldn’t see his face, but I’m sure he was taking in the barrenness of the apartment. No personal photos, no plants, or art on the walls, only a few academic textbooks and my work papers. There were absolutely no female touches in the space. It had the air of a temporary bachelor pad.

“No, we’re not separated.”

He spun to look at me. “But she doesn’t live here. You live here without her, and you frequent gay night clubs.” He scoffed- a sarcastic laugh that was very Elio. “And you’re concerned about _me_?”

I pursed my lips and wanted to protest, but what could I say? He was right.

“It’s complicated,” I replied weakly. How were we now talking about ME? I wasn’t the one with the problem.

Elio fell onto the couch. “I’m sure it is.”

He gave a self-satisfied smirk. His face had lost its pained look, and I was relieved. Snarky Elio I could handle easier than hurting Elio.

I decided to put the issue of his drinking aside for the moment. I sat on the other end of the small couch, closer to him than I had been in the kitchen. He toed off his shoes, then turned sideways, leaning his back against the arm of the couch. He placed his feet on the middle cushion, so that his feet were inches from my hips. I longed to take a foot and pull it onto my lap, like I had the day of his nose bleed two summers ago.

I gave him a soft smile, with so many confessions on my lips, ready to roll off my tongue, but I simply said, “It’s good to see you, Elio.”

He seemed taken aback from the simple candor of my words. I could see him struggling with how to respond, wanting to keep up some emotional armor, but as affected by our proximity to each other as I was. Two years later, and I could still read Elio’s face like a favorite book.

“It’s good to see you, too… Oliver.” He finally gave me the first genuine smile since he’d arrived. It was the sweetest sight I had seen in years.

I got up to get us two more beers. When I returned, I asked after his parents (both were well and currently at their home in Milan), his studies (I had been correct in thinking that he was at Juilliard. He was a freshman there, with a focus in piano composition), and Marzia (she was studying literature at Sapienza University of Rome). He didn’t ask about Rachel, and I didn’t volunteer information. I spoke a little about my job teaching at Columbia, but otherwise, we mostly talked about his life. I could see Elio visibly relax as we chatted and drank. It was a wonderful feeling, to simply sit and be with him.

After an hour, my stomach rumbled, causing Elio to sit up straight. “I didn’t mean to keep you from your dinner, Oliver. I should go.”

I grabbed his ankle to keep him in place. “Nonsense. We can order some pizza. Please stay?”

I didn’t realize until that moment how badly I didn’t want him to leave. It felt so right to have him there, in my home, talking as if almost two years hadn’t passed since we’d last spent real time together.

He paused and glanced down to where my hand was grasping his ankle, then slowly lifted his head. His eyes met mine, and were suddenly dark with want. The air crackled between us, and I felt agonizingly pulled to him. I knew now was the time to put up my strongest defenses, to resist what I was feeling with everything I had, but I also realized that this moment might not come again if I didn’t act on it.

As I always have in matters concerning Elio, I responded to the commands of my heart and my dick, resolutely ignoring my brain. I felt my body move incrementally in the direction of Elio’s mouth and, before I could even register what I was doing, he surged forward, capturing my lips fiercely in his own. I melted into the sensation, pulling him against me, pushing my hands through his luscious curls, his cap falling to the wayside. His curls felt as wondrous as they looked- like strands of satin, slipping through my fingers.

My muscle memory kicked in, causing my lips to part and my tongue to slide into Elio’s warm, inviting mouth without a conscious thought. He moaned, the sound shooting straight to my cock, already swelling and throbbing against the confines of my khakis. I tried to clear my brain and think rationally, but it was futile with Elio's tongue wrapped around mine, and his hand at the small of my back, drawing me in, closer and closer.

With incredible effort, I separated my mouth from his. “Elio,” I started.

Before I could even get my next word out, he put a hand over my mouth.

“Don’t say it Oliver. You and I both know that you’re not so good. But this… this is good. So shut up and kiss me.”

His will was stronger than mine. I dragged him onto my lap, cradling his jaw with both hands. He still felt so delicate and precious to me. I had never stopped treasuring him. He kissed me thoroughly for several minutes, then breathed into my ear, “Take me to bed, Oliver.”


	6. One Night Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Elio spend the night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terrible at the slow-burn thing. So...here, have some light smut.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and Kudos! I live on comments!
> 
> And the biggest thank you to @hendricksplease, who had her work cut out for her on this chapter xoxox

Chapter 6 

One Night Together

“Take me to bed, Oliver.”

His words crashed into me, stealing my breath and knocking me off my carefully constructed equilibrium. I squeezed his shoulders tight to calm my frayed nerves.

“I want that so badly, Elio. But I… I need to take it slow. I don’t know what I’m doing here. Hopefully nothing that either of us will regret.”

Those were honest words. I didn’t know what I needed from Elio, and I didn’t know what I had to give. I was living in a moment of carnal want, but I still hoped to cause minimal damage.

Luckily, Elio was in an understanding mood; I doubt the consequences of our night were on his mind at all. He kissed my neck, slowly and gently, letting his tongue caress my skin. He took my earlobe lightly in his teeth, nibbling softly, sending shivers down my spine. He had become much more sexually aggressive in the last two years. I couldn’t decide if I loved it or hated it. Any willpower I was pretending to have dissolved with each probe of his tongue.

He murmured into my ear, “Just tell me when to stop, Oliver. We’ll go at your pace.”

He took my hand and led to me to my bedroom. He no longer looked tired—he was on high alert, watching me very closely. It occurred to me that he was now the experienced one. I had been having only marital sex, almost exclusively Missionary-position, for the last two years--and even that was quite sporadic. I had no idea what Elio had been up to in that time, but considering his newfound confidence, I would guess that he’d been in at least a few beds. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know the number.

I stretched out across the mattress first, and immediately Elio climbed on top of me, covering my body with his own. I felt ignited. Every cell in my body sparked and crackled as his weight pressed down on me. I had no plan for how I would control myself now that this _thing_ between us had been set in motion. Perhaps I just wouldn’t. Our erections rubbed together before we even kissed, and I let out an involuntary moan.

He grinned at my reaction. “Are you _sure _you’re ok?”

I wanted to wipe away his self-satisfied smirk, so I grabbed his face with both hands, pulling him to me, and kissed him hard. “Me ok,” I murmured, smiling into his mouth.

My intention was keep our basest impulses restrained before we went too far. I wanted to make-out all night like two school boys, grinding together until we both came in our pants. That seemed safe, almost chaste. But Elio clearly had other ideas. His hand snaked down my side, ending on my groin. He quickly found my bulge, covered it with his palm, and squeezed.

I gasped. “You’re not playing fair, Elio.”

He pulled back, a serious look on his face. “I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, Oliver. Please tell me if you don’t want me to do something.”

But if I were being honest with myself, I would admit that I didn’t _want_ him to stop, and that there was almost nothing that I wouldn’t do with him. I just wasn’t brave enough to initiate the things that I had been fantasizing about for the last two years.

I shook my head. “It’s okay,” I said aloud.

‘_Don’t ever stop,_’ I thought.

With that, Elio carefully unzipped my khakis and slipped his palm inside the gap of my boxers, wrapping his long fingers around my aching erection. What I would give to just have that one feeling—the weight of Elio’s body on mine with my cock in his tight grasp--forever. He gave an experimental tug and I bucked my hips into his fist. It felt so good, I wanted to cry.

He smiled at my responsiveness and pumped my cock a little faster. Little did he know that I was already seconds from spilling my seed all over his eager hand. I took a much-needed deep breath to calm myself; I’d waited two long years to be with Elio again; I couldn’t let this reunion be over so quickly.

He suddenly switched positions so that he was kneeling between my legs. He put his hands on the waistband of my pants, then looked up at me, his green eyes seductive and pleading.

“Please let me do this for you, Oliver.”

He looked so beautiful, asking for permission to pleasure me. How could I say no? I quickly shucked off my boxers and trousers, Elio patiently waiting. I couldn’t read his mind, but he gave a quick intake of breath and licked his lips as my erection was released. It appeared that he still liked what he saw. As soon as I was naked, he scrambled back between my legs, as eager as the 17-year old I remembered.

The sight of my cock in Elio’s mouth was one my very favorite things in the world. I had repressed the memory of how it looked when his pink lips were wrapped tight around my flesh, the sound of him gagging as he swallowed me down to my base, the feel of his tongue lapping at my head. I had to forget these things, because how could I have ever left him and made the choices I did if these memories remained fresh and real to me?

But now that he was back in my bed, with my cock down his throat, reminding me of what it felt to really live… I wasn’t sure I could ever go back to that self-imposed amnesia. I raked my hands through his curls as his head bobbed on my cock. He had a talented mouth when I was with him two years ago, but he had gained some advanced techniques in the interim. His hand twisted up my base while his mouth worked the top. Within minutes, I felt my orgasm welling up; it was months in the making and I knew it would be explosive.

“Elio… I’m going to come…”

Rather than pull off as he would have two years ago, he picked up the pace. Spit trickled down his chin onto my dick, his mouth and hands a flurry of activity. I felt the crescendo of pleasure hit me--wave after wave of pent-up sexual frustration filling Elio’s waiting mouth. He drank it down eagerly--it was the first time I had ever had my release swallowed after a blow-job, and it was one of the most erotic things I had ever witnessed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while I lay recovering. He had a proud grin on his face at a job well-done. My heart was beating out of my chest, but I felt glorious and carefree. Elio had taken every worry and stress I’d been obsessing over, and literally sucked them out of my body. It was temporary; I was cognizant enough to realize that, but I was going to enjoy the feeling while it lasted.

I held out my arms for him, and he eagerly crawled into them. He kissed me, and I could feel his erection, still incredibly hard, pushing into my hips. I suddenly wanted nothing more in the world than to make Elio feel as good as he had just made me feel.

I pushed up and quickly changed my position, hovering over him as he had done to me earlier. “Your turn,” I said as his face lit up with anticipation.

I began to slowly and methodically undress Elio. I wanted to savor each patch of skin that was revealed with every discarded article of clothing. I pulled off his collared polo shirt, and pressed my lips to his chest. He had started to fill out some, but was still thin enough that I could easily mouth each rib. Hair had started to sprout on his chest, and his shoulders were broader. I could see the results of time at the gym in the striations of his abs. Although I was physically spent, the sight of his bare abdomen made my cock twitch.

I glanced up at him with a teasing smile. “Elio Perlman… have you been _working out_?”

His face flushed adorably. “My roommate is really into body building. He drags me to the weight room of his gym sometimes. Do you… do you like it?”

I raised one incredulous eyebrow. “What do_ you_ think?” I asked, returning to the job of taking off the next piece of Elio’s clothing which was, quite importantly, his pants. He was wearing old jeans that seemed too big for him. I was happy to get them off and out of my sight. I kissed each of his still-knobby knees as I pulled them down, and then returned for his underwear. His erection was pulsing beneath the thin cloth of his boxers and I couldn’t stop myself from gently nosing the bulge, then taking it in my mouth, dampening the fabric.

“Oh fuck, Oliver. You keep that up and I’m done,” Elio gasped. I loved that I still had such an effect on the boy.

I could not wait any longer. I pulled down his boxers in one swift motion, revealing his cock: pink, leaking, and gorgeous. It was as elegant and demanding of attention as Elio himself. I took him in my mouth immediately, eager to taste what I had been desperately missing in our two year separation. Elio tasted just as I remembered- earthy and musky, with just the tiniest taste of bitter from the drops of pre-cum escaping from his tip.

Elio immediately grabbed my hair as I worked his dick with my mouth. I winced at the initial sting, and he let up on his grasp a bit. “Sorry,” he breathed, “Feels so good, Oliver…”  
  


To be honest, I didn’t mind the pain. Every sensation just made me more present in the moment, and heightened the intensity of being together again. In the back of my mind, I knew that this could be our only time together. Every moment was precious.

Elio came quickly and, as he had done for me, I eagerly swallowed down every drop of his come. I wanted that. No, I _needed _that. To ingest the very essence of our intimacy, and to keep it inside of me, to have him be a part of me, forever. It was something I had always regretted not doing when we were together in Italy.

Once I was sure he was depleted, I returned to my spot next to him, drawing him back into my arms. He was happily boneless, letting me wrap myself around him and pulling him close. I sighed with more contentment than I’d felt since… well, since Crema.

We did not speak for a few moments; only the sound of Elio catching his breath and the more distance noise of Manhattan traffic filled the room. I was fine with silence; it gave me a chance to check in with all of my other senses- the clean smell of Elio’s curls tickling my nose; the feel of his sweaty skin gliding against my own; the taste of his semen still tingling in my mouth; and best of all, the sight of him in my bed—long and lean, and mine for the night.

Finally he spoke. “If this is a dream, Oliver, please don’t wake me.”

My guard was down and I replied perhaps too honestly.

“If we are dreaming, Elio, I would discard my reality and stay in this dream with you forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up...the boys finally talk. REALLY talk.


	7. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio and Oliver talk real-talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed a little E/O smut. Now for more talking and FEELINGS.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments. I LOVE THEM!
> 
> Also, thank you to the very best Beta reader, @hendricksplease!

Chapter 7

Confessions

Elio and I lay in silence, enjoying the warmth of our bodies intertwined. I was just starting to doze off when Elio spoke.

“So, why _do_ you have this place, Oliver? In the city, all alone, away from your wife.”

I gave my usual lie, almost like a reflex. “The drive was killing me. And the wear-and-tear on my car…” My words petered out as I caught the disbelieving glare Elio was directing at me.

“Oliver, you were in a well-known gay club last week, and I don’t for a second believe that was your first time. And we just spent the last hour with our cocks in each other’s mouths. Please don’t hand me a bullshit sandwich and tell me it’s a hamburger.”

In any other situation, I would double-down on my lie and try to think of a cover story. I was a very private man, and I was especially protective over the circumstances behind my apartment. But considering what Elio and I had just shared, and our history together, I decided to be honest with him. Maybe in this way I could start to be honest with myself. I took a deep breath, trying to parse out the real reason behind my insistence at getting this place.

“I keep this apartment, Elio, so I have a space where I can be true to myself.” I hugged him tight to me, our legs tangled beneath the cool sheets.

He pulled back a bit to look at me face-to-face. “What does that _mean _though? I’m sorry if I’m being obtuse but, isn’t that what you wanted Oliver? The wife, the house, the picket fence?”

His words sounded peevish, but his face reflected genuine confusion, and perhaps some hurt. I realized that I owed Elio a full explanation. I had left him for this life… for this lie. And now I had turned my own back on it. No wonder he was so wounded.

I gave a deep sigh. “I thought I did. Or rather I told myself I did. I listened to what my parents decreed was best for me, what Rachel thought was best for me, what society said was best for me. It was the easy choice, because what they wanted for me were all the same values that I had come to believe were ‘good’ and ‘right.’ It’s easy to believe a lie when living your truth would hurt everyone you love.”

Just saying these words pained me. I had married Rachel to avoid hurting her, and I had ended up doing that in the end, anyway. I felt Elio’s eyes pinned to me; I continued.

“If I were a less selfish man, I would just accept my decision and live the life that I chose.”

Elio’s hand came up to my face, tracing my jawline with the tips of his fingers. I wanted to shake them off; not because I didn’t crave his touch, but because I didn’t deserve his kindness. I was the villain in this story. He needed to recognize that.

He spoke again, in a soft voice. “So why didn’t you do that?”

“Because it was killing me, Elio. Wearing the mask of a loving, dutiful husband, day after day, was fucking killing me. It was one thing when we were dating, and I could go home to my own apartment and get a nightly reprieve, but as soon as we married and moved in together… it was like I was suffocating.”

I had never confessed these feelings to anyone. It was a relief, but it also left me feeling wholly ashamed. I had made a promise to my wife that I could not keep; that I barely even attempted to keep. I had turned my wedding vows into a betrayal, yet I was the one burning with resentment against her. A sob unexpectedly escaped from my chest. I gave a bitter laugh to cover it.

“I’m so sorry, Elio. I’m a mess. And here I am, giving you shit about your life decisions when I’ve made the biggest mistake of all. I’m a fucking hypocrite.”

We fell into silence again; I wondered if my words had scared him off. A part of me hoped that were true. I didn’t need to pull Elio into the shit-storm of my life. But a larger part wanted to clutch him like a life preserver, because laying here with him by my side, I felt complete and content for the first time since leaving the villa.

Finally, Elio whispered into the side of my neck, where his lips were pressed. “Maybe it’s time to rectify some of those mistakes, Oliver?”

I couldn’t respond, because the answer was just too complicated to address at the moment. I nodded silently and held him tight. Somehow, just having him there made me feel stronger, like maybe I _could _find a solution to the glut of problems in my life.

My stomach rumbled again; I laughed again, this time sincerely. “We keep getting distracted from dinner. Come on, I’ll rummage through my fridge and rustle us up something to eat.”

I pulled on my boxers and tee-shirt, looking up when I felt Elio’s eyes on me. He was holding his own shirt, still naked, watching me. I gave him an embarrassed smile.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, feeling shy despite the intimacy we just shared.

“You. How have you gotten even better looking in the last two years?”

I had no answer for that, so I instead threw a pillow at him. He yelped, then grabbed it and swung it at me, hard. I put my arms up to block his swing.

“Oh no, you don’t!” I laughed, throwing the pillow to the floor, then lunging at him, tackling him to the bed. I pinned him down, holding both his arms over his head with one hand. He giggled and squirmed to get away, but soon realize that it was futile--I still outweighed him by at least 50 pounds. He lay still, breathing hard from his struggle, looking up at me with those gorgeous hooded eyes.

“God, and you are still so fucking beautiful,” I breathed. His pink lips were parted while he caught his breath, and I couldn’t stop myself from bending down for one more, soft kiss. He responded enthusiastically, pulling me down onto him again.

I laughed and pulled away a bit. “At this rate, we are never going to eat. As much as I’d love to stay in my bed with you, naked, all night, we should probably get some sustenance.”

He t’sked, feigning annoyance. “Fine, if you insist. _Mangiamo, Americano_!”

We finally made it back to the kitchen. I marveled at how the atmosphere had changed between us in the last two hours, from awkward to sexually-charged, and now familiar and comfortable. Funny how a few blowjobs will break the ice that way. I started foraging through the fridge, looking for something to cook. We had worked up an appetite and I was starving. I found a half of an onion, some garlic, and a few tomatoes. I decided to make pasta with a marinara sauce.

I poured us both a glass of Chianti, then tasked Elio with chopping the onion while I tackled the tomatoes. This was something we never did in Crema—cooking together--and it turned out that we made a pretty good team in the kitchen. I turned on the radio to a classic rock station. A Stones tune came on, and we both started to sing- “You can’t always get what you want…” 

He glanced up at me with a smile that I wasn’t supposed to see. I pretended that I didn’t, but my entire body filled with the liquid warmth of pure happiness. So _this _is what domestic bliss felt like. It was almost like we were playing house, but I didn’t mind living in this fantasy for a little while longer.

We finally sat down to eat at almost 10pm, both of us so hungry that we dug into our pasta and ate for five minute straight without exchanging a word. Eventually he paused to take a sip of his wine.

“Not bad,” he declared. “I forgot that you knew how to cook. I remember how Mafalda used to have to shoo you out of her kitchen.”

I nodded in agreement, chewing. “It turned out pretty good considering it came from the dregs of my refrigerator. And, also you are remembering incorrectly. Mafalda loved having me in her kitchen.”

Elio gave a fond laugh. “That was just your ego. You always assumed everyone loved having ‘la muvi star’ around. But I heard Mafalda grumbling plenty of times.”

I swatted him with my napkin. “You’re just jealous because she never let _you_ into her kitchen.”

Elio didn’t answer right away. He seemed lost in a memory, and his face began to cloud over. I knew right away what he was thinking.

“You miss it, don’t you? Italy?”

He nodded but didn’t look up. A single tear carved a path down the smooth contours of his sweet face.

He finally spoke. “Not just Italy, though. My parents, the villa, our apartment in Milan, Mafalda. Even Anchise.” He glanced up at me, his expression one of wretched misery. “I’m so fucking lonely, Oliver.”

I reached across the table and took his hand, waiting for him to continue.

“I feel ungrateful because this is all I’ve ever wanted, to study at Juilliard and live in Manhattan. But the culture shock has been overwhelming.”

He paused, considering his next words. I nodded for him to continue. I had a feeling that this was the first time he was expressing these feelings to anyone.

“It’s been so hard to connect with people. It has made me realize how I took for granted the way my friends in Italy put up with me and my moods. I think I’m not the easiest person to be around sometimes.”

I squeezed his hand. “I’ve never found that to be true, Elio.”

He gave a small smile, sighed and continued. “But the hardest part of being here is knowing that I am so fucking close to you, but I still couldn’t be with you. When I was in Italy, I could distract myself from thinking about you most of the time. But once I was here, it was like I could _feel_ your proximity. It was… it was fucking terrible. I think that’s why I would drink so much: to forget.”

It suddenly hit me, the enormity of what I had done. Elio had been working on getting over me for the last two years, and in one night, I had most likely undone whatever progress he had made. Was I setting him up for heartbreak again? Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Him being here in my apartment, at my dinner table--it felt like kismet, a miracle, a second chance.

I looked into his eyes, imploringly. “Promise me, Elio, promise me that you will never drink that much again. So many terrible things could have happened to you if I hadn’t been there. It makes me sick to think of it.”

He nodded. “I promise. I’ve gotten really drunk before, lots of times actually, but not to the point of passing out. It really scared me, too. Thank god for you, Oliver.”

He gave me a look so tender and vulnerable, I almost confessed every feeling I’d had about him right there in that moment. Instead, I asked him to stay the night. He agreed immediately.

Later that night, we lay in my bed, our limbs intertwined as they so often were in Italy. Every fiber of my body wanted to grab him and ravish him. To lick his most private spots and then enter him. But he was fragile, I could feel that, and our circumstances were tenuous, so I was happy to simply hold him.

“When do you return to Italy?” I asked him, remembering that he had mentioned that he would be going to see him parents for a few weeks before the new semester.

“Not until next month. I can’t wait.”

We still hadn’t discussed what (if anything) would happen next with us, but I was already thinking of the next time I could see him. Any self-made promises that this was a one-time thing were already out the window.


	8. Deception by Omission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Elio have reconnected... the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my lovely readers for all of your comments and Kudos. This chapter took a bit to write, but it's finally done.
> 
> A huge thank you to my amazing Beta, @hendricksplease, who I think is really sick of my incorrect ellipses! :P

Chapter 8

Deception by Omission

That night, I woke several times, almost as if my subconscious wanted to check on Elio to make sure he was still in my bed. We slept slotted together, his back against my chest, my arms wrapped around his belly. It was a position that I usually avoided with Rachel because it felt too hot and almost oppressive. But Elio and I slipped into it naturally, as we had in Italy, and it felt comforting rather than restricting. Each time I woke, I took a few seconds to breathe in his scent and pull him in even closer before drifting quickly back to sleep.

The next morning, Elio had to leave early to get home before going to his job teaching piano at a local music store. I slipped out of bed first to make him coffee and toast him a bagel with some lox. While the coffee was brewing, he ambled in groggily, his hair a disheveled shock of curls.

We sat at my kitchen table, silently sipping our coffee. I remembered that Elio wasn’t a morning person, and I was happy to just enjoy his company without empty chit-chat. After a few minutes, he said that he had better get going so as not to be late for work. I wrapped up his bagel, handing it to him with a quick peck goodbye. Just as he was turning to leave, I blurted out, “When can I see you again?”

He turned back, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know, Oliver. I _do _want to see you again, but as you pointed out the other day, you’re still married. I… I need to think about this, and so should you.”

Everything he said was true. I had no right to ask anything of him. Yet, of course I tried.

“Will you call me, please? We can talk it over, maybe over dinner this week?” He hesitated, but then nodded in agreement and was gone.

Elio and I had exchanged numbers, and as I was preparing my dinner Tuesday night after work, his digits itched for attention in my pocket. I poured some wine to distract myself from thoughts of him, but my mind returned again and again to how he had looked the night before. He had been a beautiful 17 year-old, but at 19 he was truly stunning. It seemed impossible that he had not found another man (or woman) to love him, but I was selfishly relieved that he was single at the moment. I tried to shake off the thought, as he was not mine to love, either. But here I was, apparently falling for him again.

I was settling on my couch with my chicken Milanese and Jeopardy when the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat but I reminded myself that Rachel usually called around this time most nights.

“Hello?”

“Oliver? Hey, it’s Elio.” A smile swept across my face at the sound of his always surprisingly deep voice.

“Hi! How are you?”

“I’m good, very good. I told myself that I wouldn’t call, but… I guess I’m not very good at listening to myself.”

“No, no, I’m so happy to hear from you. What’s up? How were your lessons this morning?”

“Oh! Well, they were good. Thanks for asking. Um… so you mentioned maybe getting dinner some night this week? To talk?”

I sat up straight. “Yes, definitely. Let’s do that. What night are you free?”

We made plans to have dinner Thursday night, the one week anniversary of our reunion. In my mind, I happily canceled my typical Thursday night bar crawl. There would be no need for that this week.

It seemed that despite my best intentions, I could not stay away from Elio. Luckily it appeared that he felt the same.

We met at a nearby Chinese restaurant Thursday night and ordered Mai Tais and dim sum. We hugged hello and I brushed my lips against his ear. I would have loved to have kissed him, but it wasn’t the time or the place. We sat across the small restaurant table from each other, our hands carefully not touching but our feet tangled together, out of sight. Any awkwardness between us was gone, and we talked and laughed freely about classes and friends and books we’d recently read. He was as insightful and well-read as I remembered; perhaps even more so, now that his horizons had broadened beyond his Italian bubble. Maturity suited him well.

Our conversation turned to movies, and I mentioned that I was looking forward to the film adaptations of _The Color Purple_ and _A Room with a View_. He nodded and admitted that he couldn’t wait to see the new Mad Max flick. I laughed, confiding to him that that was on my list, as well.

“Maybe we can see it together?” he asked, shyly. I paused for less than a second before agreeing. The thought of being in a dark theater with Elio, holding his hand, our legs pressed against each other was irresistible.

We didn’t discuss Rachel, my marriage, or our future, even though that had ostensibly been the reason we had met for dinner. It seemed that we had somehow come to an unspoken agreement to avoid reality, at least for a little while longer. 

After dinner, we returned again to my apartment and finally gave in to the sexual tension that had been percolating between us all night. We fell into my bed and took turns taking the other’s cock in our mouths, licking and sucking until we reached the point of release in powerful waves of pleasure. I could tell Elio wanted more, as his fingers pressed between the crevices of my ass, but I stopped him out of some hypocritical loyalty to the woman I was cheating on with him. Or maybe I just wanted to wait to take the next step when I knew I belonged to him only.

That weekend, Rachel commented that I was in an unusually good mood and it was shamefully true. The guilt of my deception was totally overshadowed by my elation at having Elio back in my life again. I whistled while cooking dinner Friday night, and I volunteered to help in Rachel’s garden on Saturday. The unfortunate (and inevitable) consequence of this good mood was that Rachel took ownership of it, attributing it to our talk about starting a family the weekend prior.

This became apparent Saturday night, when she brought up the topic again.

“Can you come home sometime this week? I want you there when I meet with my ob-gyn. You need to know what to expect and how to help, too,” she said with a smile.

This statement should not have caught me off-guard, but of course it did. I scrambled for a way to stall.

“Oh, this is a tough week for me. End-of-term essays are due, and finals are the week after. Can we do it after the semester ends, but before summer classes begin?” 

I always volunteered to teach in the summer, ostensibly for the extra income, but of course it was to maintain my excuse for keeping the apartment. This bit of procrastination would also give me a few weeks to figure out what was happening between me and Elio, and even more importantly, how I was going to proceed. Rachel’s sudden desire to procreate made this step even more urgent.

Rachel looked hurt that I didn’t seem to be as excited to begin the process of starting a family as she. However, she was used to my relative indifference in so many matters that were important to her; she seemed more resigned than surprised. I really did not know why she put up with so much from me. I guess I did not recognize the signs of love in her, any more than I recognized them in myself.

I tried to make convivial small talk over dinner later that night, but Rachel had retreated into a shell of reserve. She was sad and disappointed and I was again the cause. I cared about her enough to not want to see her hurting, but she resisted all attempts by me to cheer her up. She excused herself immediately after dinner to go to bed, blaming a headache. As she retreated from the dining room, my body actually sagged with relief that she was gone.

As I began to clear the table of dishes, I considered why such an intense feeling of relief had swept over me after Rachel had gone to bed. I realized almost instantly that it was because I had been able to avoid the possibility of sexual relations with her. The night before, she had gotten a call from her mother after dinner; I had kissed her forehead good night and gone to bed while she was speaking with her. And then again tonight—she would be asleep by the time I came to bed.

How long could I hold her off? I had no idea, but as I tried to imagine laying with her… making love to her… I was overcome by a feeling of intense disloyalty to Elio. To a boy who, just a week-and-a-half ago, I hadn’t seen in two years. I realized how perverse this feeling was, but I was powerless against it.

This situation was unsustainable. Something had to give.

I returned to my apartment Sunday night, telling Rachel that I had an especially early morning meeting on Monday. She swallowed this lie as she did the others—like a bitter pill, knowing she had no other choice.

I called Elio the moment I walked through my door, my coat and shoes still on, my keys still in hand. I could hear his smile through the wires as he said he could be over within the hour. I hung up, and leaned my head against the wall, the conflicting emotions of joy and guilt tearing me apart from the inside.

Forty-five minutes later, I heard Elio’s boots in the hallway. I opened the door before he even had a chance to knock. It was almost midnight and I didn’t want to alert my nosy neighbors that I had such a late-night visitor. His face lit up as he caught sight of me, and I pulled him through, then up against the door. His lips against mine were a homecoming. I pushed my hands through his curls, then pressed my face into the side of his neck. It had only been three days since I’d last seen him, but I had already missed him desperately. 

He giggled as my unshaved whiskers tickled his throat. He pulled away to look at me.

“Hi.”

I grinned. “Hi there. How was your weekend?”

He shrugged. “The usual. Gave a few piano lessons, did laundry, worked on my composition a bit, then went out Saturday night with some friends.”

My blood ran cold at this news, but I tried to appear casual. “Oh, you went out? Where did you go?”

Elio’s eyes narrowed; he saw through my ruse. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we went to Rawhide.”

I nodded my head, thinking of all the things that could have happened. He nudged me with his shoulder. “I didn’t hook up with anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not that I didn’t have the opportunity, you know.”

I let out the breath I had unknowingly been holding. “I have no right to ask anything of you, Elio. I just want you to be safe.”

He shrugged again. “I don’t want to be with anyone else, Oliver. At least not right now. But whatever. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

We quickly brushed our teeth and shucked our clothing, eager be under the covers, reconciling our naked bodies after the short absence. We were both too tired for blowjobs, so we made out like 16-year olds, and brought each other off with our hands. Afterwards, I was just starting to doze off when Elio suddenly spoke in a soft, hesitant voice.

“So, did you talk to Rachel this weekend? About um… us?”

My heart sank at the hope laden in this question. I hated even more the answer that I had to give.

“No, Elio. I never said that I was going to do that.”

There was a long pause then, “I just thought… after last week…”

He let the sentence hang, as if knowing it had nowhere else to go. I sighed, buckling under the guilt.

“I will, Elio. I promise,” I whispered, purposely leaving out when I would finally be brave enough to take this step, altering mine and Rachel’s life forever.

With that, Elio turned his back to me, nestling into my chest as the little spoon. I heard a pensive sigh escape from him as our bodies fell into sleep.


	9. For Better or For Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver must make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving for my parents' house on Saturday, so this may be the last chapter until 2020 (HGTV is not conducive to my writing process). Hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season! Thank you to all my wonderful readers! I appreciate each and every one of you xoxox
> 
> And thank you to my brilliant beta reader, @hendricksplease who corrects my overzealous punctuation and reminds me which canon I am referencing xoxoxo

Chapter 9

For Better or For Worse

The next week, Elio and I fell into something of a routine. We both worked during the day, so he would either come over for dinner or we would meet out at a local diner. He had a roommate, so going to his apartment was out-of-the-question. He admitted to me one night that it was nice to be able to crash at a place with air-conditioning, hot food, and no prying eyes. “And you, too, of course,” he added with a smirk.

We had a solid week of what felt almost like a normal new relationship. We held hands, cooked together, watched bad television, and talked endlessly. We never spoke of Rachel.

The next weekend Rachel was sick and spent most of her time in bed. I gratefully played nursemaid, cooking her soup and taking her temperature, happy to have yet another reprieve. The entire time, I wondered what Elio was doing in my absence. Did he go out again with his friends? Did he have a date? Did he miss me at all?

By Sunday night, Rachel was still feverish. I stayed close-by, administering her medication and replenishing her juice. I began to get concerned about leaving.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take the day off tomorrow and stay with you?”

Rachel shook her head, laying a hand on my knee. “It’s just a fever. I’ll be alright. But thank you for taking such good care of me this weekend, Ollie.”

My heart clenched at her use of my nickname. She gazed up at me with such tenderness in her eyes, it made my stomach clench with shame. If only she knew how duplicitous I’d been recently. I pushed this thought away and leaned down to graze my lips across her burning forehead.

“Of course. You don’t have to thank me. This is my job as your husband, remember?” Of course she had forgotten; it had been months since I had been a proper spouse.

I slept in the guest room that night, keeping the door ajar in case Rachel needed me. By Monday morning, her fever had broken and she was starting to seem like her old self again. I made some tea and toast and brought it to her in bed before having to head out to work.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else before I go?”

“No, I’m feeling a lot better, Ollie, I swear. Thank you for everything. Now, you better get going before traffic gets worse. Okay? I love you.”

“Love you, too.” I blew her a kiss, and started off on my two hour drive into the city.

That weekend--taking care of Rachel and then her earnest appreciation at the little I did for her—was a reminder of how much she loved and needed me. She was in our marriage, 100%. It was time for me to make a decision, as well. As heart-breaking as it would be, I decided that I needed recommit to her as a dutiful husband and let Elio go. I owed Rachel and our marriage one more try.

I drove to work Monday morning with dread in the pit of my stomach, knowing what I had to do. Even though Elio and I had no obligation to each other, after what I had done to him two winters ago over the phone, I owed him an explanation of my decision in person. I hated myself for putting Elio through this for a second time. It took me until after lunch to get the courage to call.

“Hello?”

“Elio? It’s Oliver.”

“Hey! How are you? How was your weekend?”

“Um, it was ok. Listen, can you meet tonight?” My heart was pounding out of my chest. Just hearing his voice was already giving me doubts about my decision.

There was a pause on the other line, as if Elio could sense what I was thinking. “I can’t meet tonight, but how about tomorrow? Oliver, is everything alright? You sound upset.”

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice. “No, no. Everything is fine. Can we meet at the coffee shop near your apartment at 6?”

Another pause. “I booked the rehearsal room at the music shop until 6:30 tomorrow night. Do you want to meet there, or we could meet after?”

The practice room was private, and Elio might feel more comfortable in a familiar space, I decided. “I’ll meet you at the music shop. See you tomorrow.”

I know I sounded aloof and cold; I could feel Elio’s confusion through the telephone wires. I despised myself more than ever.

“Ok. See you then…” His voice was small and unsure. I hung up the phone, and was shocked when my eyes welled up with tears. How was I ever going to go through with this?

The next day-and-a-half was hell. I literally felt torn in two. My heart was telling me to forget my plan and declare what I really felt to Elio, which was that I had fallen in love with him again. Or, more likely, I had never stopped loving him. But my brain told me that I had made a vow two years ago and I needed to fully honor it.

Tuesday, I spent the day almost paralyzed with dread, thinking of my meeting with Elio. I called Rachel in the afternoon, just to remind myself why I had made this decision. She was so happily taken aback that I had called unexpectedly that it made me realize again what a shitty husband I was.

Just as we were getting off the phone, she said, “You seem different lately, Ollie. More present in our marriage somehow. That really makes me feel better about our decision to start trying. I love you so much.”

I hung up the phone feeling like a fraud.

I arrived at the music store where Elio worked just before 6:30, my stomach in knots. I’d stopped at a pub for a quick drink on my way there to calm my nerves and give me some liquid courage, but it hadn’t helped much at all.

It was my first time at Elio’s work, an older music store that sold record albums, instruments and sheet music, and had rehearsal rooms for use. The owner cheerfully pointed the way to the stairs that led to where Elio was practicing.

“He’s the only one up there right now. Should be easy to find him,” he said. I followed to where he’d indicated, and as I climbed up the narrow staircase, a melancholic melody drifted down. I recognized the song as Chopin’s Nocturne No. 9. Elio played it flawlessly. I got to the landing to find a hallway of four closed doors, each with a small window, and stood still, just listening. I wanted to bottle the notes and listen to them forever. After a moment, I took a deep breath and walked to the fourth door where the music was coming from, and peeked through the window.

Elio was hunched over the piano, his hair falling into his eyes, swaying with the music. He was oblivious to his surroundings and did not look up when I slipped into the room. I watched silently, overcome by the emotion of seeing Elio playing piano for the first time since I had left the villa. I had first fallen in love with Elio watching him play away the lazy Italian summer afternoons. Now here he was, in a different environment years later, but he had no less of a hold on me. I could think of nothing but taking him in my arms, kissing him, and never letting go. 

For the second time in two days, tears sprung to my eyes over this boy. I quickly wiped them away with the back of my hand, but not before a slight shudder escaped from me. Elio stopped playing and spun around on the stool.

“Oliver! I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been standing there?”

The smile he gave me tore me apart and put me back together a different man. I returned his smile, my plans of breaking things off immediately forgotten. I had spent my entire life always listening to my head, ignoring my desperate heart, which constantly cried out to be heard. For once, I was going to heed what it had to say.

“Just a few minutes. That sounded really beautiful, Elio. You’ve gotten even better since I last heard you play.”

I strode over and put a hand on his head, stroking his soft curls. He looked up, relief evident on his face. “You wanted to talk about something?” He took his lower lip into his mouth as he waited for my answer.

I shook my head. “It was nothing. Just… I missed you. Can we go back to my place?”

We picked up sandwiches at a deli next to the music shop, then grabbed a taxi to take to my apartment. Elio suggested walking the 3 miles to my place, but I couldn’t stop thinking about having him naked in my bed. I whispered this to him as I hailed the cab, and he squeezed my hand tight in response, nodding furiously in agreement.

I dragged him to my bedroom as soon as we crossed the threshold to my apartment, my lips firmly attached to his. I started to unbutton his shirt as he began to unbutton mine, our arms tangling together. We laughed as we realized the folly of this and each undid our own instead. I threw my Oxford aside just as Elio was pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the smooth, pale expanse of his chest.

“This is what I thought about all weekend,” I growled, dragging him roughly to me. I took a pert nipple into my mouth, and Elio tilted his head back with a moan. His erection was already straining against the tight fabric of his jeans.

His head suddenly jerked up, as if he had an unexpected thought. “Oliver, did you talk to her this weekend?”

My head was clouded with thoughts of his bare skin. I gave a half-honest answer, promising myself to rectify the rest this week.

“I want to be with you and you alone, Elio. My marriage is over.”

He stared at me, unsure if he could trust the words I was saying. I couldn’t blame him, considering my track record.

“Are you sure, Oliver?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“I am surer of this than anything else in my life.” And this was the truth. I looked into his sea green eyes, and my heart was full. He satisfied every part of me. He challenged my intellect; he broke down my emotional walls; he fulfilled every sexual longing I had ever had.

Elio captured my lips in his for a searing kiss that scorched every cell of my body. Then he leaned close, his lips caressing the sensitive shell of my ear, and whispered, “Fuck me, Elio.”

Any sense of fidelity I had to Rachel, born from guilt and our marriage commitment, went out the window with those three words. I opened my nightstand drawer and hastily pulled out the lube and a condom. Elio saw what I had grabbed and pushed off his jeans and boxers in one hasty movement, a grin spreading across his face. He had wanted this since our first night back together.

Afterwards, we lay naked on my bed, a thin sheet covering our damp bodies. It had been my first time with a man since our last night in Bergamo, and my body was still vibrating from our intimacy. I had fucked Elio, and it been bright and sharp and so powerful. The second I began to push into him, I wanted to weep with relief that I could still feel something this real. I hadn’t lasted long, and when I was done, I took him in my mouth and sucked an orgasm out of him almost as quickly.

But now that our needs were satiated, the gravity of what I had done hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt sick that I hadn’t been able to control my sexual appetite until after I had spoken with Rachel about Elio. I was disgusted with myself.

Elio seemed to sense that something was wrong. He wrapped his arms around me and murmured to me, “You’re upset. I’m so sorry, Oliver. I shouldn’t have pushed you. You weren’t ready.”

The last thing I wanted was for Elio to take on the burden on my indiscretion. I shook my head. “I’m okay. This was everything I wanted, Elio, and everything I had hoped it would be.” I peppered kisses on the top of his head. He seemed satisfied that I was alright.

He sat up in bed, stretching his arms above his head as if he’d just woken. “Hey, I’m starving. Why don’t I go and heat up our parma sandwiches? We can eat them in bed like savages.”

I didn’t normally eat in my bedroom, but I was willing to break all of my typical rules for Elio. “Sounds good. I’ll be waiting here for you.”

He pulled on his boxers and grabbed one of my dirty t-shirts from the top of the hamper. He gave me a wink as headed to the kitchen, closing the door behind him. I pulled the sheet over my shoulder, enjoying the smell of him on my pillow and the sound of him puttering around the kitchen. I set aside my guilt and allowed myself a moment of uncomplicated contentedness.

I was just starting to doze off, when I was jolted awake by the unexpected sound of a key turning in my front door. I bolted upright in my bed as I heard the door open, and a panic began to spread through my veins like a virus. Only one other person besides me had a key to my apartment.

Then I heard her voice, surprised, but not upset. “Oh! Hello. Um…who are you?”

A long, pregnant pause. “Hi. You must be Rachel? I’m Elio, Oliver’s, um, friend.”

I sat frozen in my bed, still naked, unable to process the scene unfolding in my living room.

Fuck.


	10. Facing Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver must pay the piper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here...have an early holiday gift! 
> 
> An extra big thank you to my incredible beta reader, @hendricksplease, who not only read two chapters in the space of of like three days, but also found a huge continuity error in this chapter that I never would have noticed. Love you!

Chapter 10

Facing Consequences

I sat frozen on the bed, listening helplessly to the stilted conversation transpiring in the next room.

Rachel: “Oh, Elio. Sammi and Annella’s son from Italy, right?” She sounded somewhat relieved, but still confused.

Elio: “Uh, yeah. That’s me…”

The kitchen timer suddenly went off, jarring me out of my paralysis. I quickly stood up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. I could only imagine how Elio and I would appear to Rachel, he in my oversized t-shirt, the two of us disheveled and sweaty, smelling of sex and each other.

I heard Elio’s voice again. “I… I just need to take these sandwiches out of the oven…”

“Oh, of course. Um…. is Oliver here?”

Dread coursed through my entire body as I opened the bedroom door. Rachel was still standing by the front door, holding a plate of cookies. She looked up as soon as the bedroom door opened, and her eyes swept over my messy hair and wrinkled clothing, then narrowed with deep suspicion. Elio put the sandwiches on the counter, his face blank as an empty canvas, then he rushed out of the kitchen. He didn’t look up as he pushed past me back into the bedroom, mumbling, “I gotta go.”

Rachel seemed to be taking in the entire scene- Elio’s discomfort at her arrival, his retreat into the bedroom to get the rest of his clothing, my apparent inability to move past the threshold of the bedroom.

She watched Elio leave the room, then looked at me sharply. “I feel like I’ve interrupted something.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but having no idea what to say, I only could mutter, “Rachel…”

I took a step toward her. She immediately threw up a hand.

“Don’t, Oliver. Just…. don’t. I wanted to surprise you with your favorite cookies tonight, as a thank you for taking care of me this weekend.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess I’m the one who got the surprise.”

Elio emerged from the bedroom, dressed in his own clothes and holding his sneakers. He headed directly for the door, not looking at me at all. He paused in front of Rachel.

“It was nice to meet you.” Elio Perlman--always so polite.

Rachel just stared at him, then we both watched him leave. I wanted nothing more than to call to him, to run after him, to grab him and beg him not to go. But my first priority now had to be Rachel.

She turned back to me, shaking her head. “He’s just a boy. God, I am so fucking stupid. But it all makes sense now. It all makes so much _fucking _sense now!”

I started to walk towards her again. “I am so sorry, Rachel.”

There was no sense in denying any of it. The damage had been done.

She stood staring at me, fury distorting her normally lovely features. Suddenly, she threw the dish onto the ground, the plate shattering and cookies flying in all directions. I took a step back in shock.

“Fuck you, Oliver Weiss! Just… fuck you!” A sob escaped from deep within her before she had a chance to suppress it. She covered her mouth, then turned on her heels and ran out of my apartment.

I remained frozen in the middle of the living room, realizing the gravity of the situation. I had betrayed the two people I loved the most in the world, and now I was alone, dealing with the consequences. I deserved all of this.

I finally shook myself out of the shocked state I was in. I cleaned up the shattered plate and scattered cookies, then went to the kitchen and found the sandwiches sitting on the counter and distractedly started to wrap them up in foil. It seemed unreal that just 20 minutes ago, I was reveling in a rare state of pure happiness, getting ready to share a meal with Elio. Now, all I wanted was to curl into a ball on the floor and weep with self-pity. I had to remind myself over and over again that I had created this mess.

I put the sandwiches in the refrigerator, my appetite gone. Then I did the only thing that I had the will to do-- I crawled into bed to sleep away the reality of what had just happened.

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed and into a hot shower, reliving the previous night’s events as I let the water scald me. I had barely slept the night before; instead I laid awake thinking of all the ways I had hurt Rachel and Elio. I then tried to formulate a plan of atonement, as belated and feeble as it may be. Step one: Apologize and grovel to them both. Step two: Come clean to Rachel. I had to tell her _everything_; I owed her that. Finally, step three: Beg Elio to take me back. I realized as I tossed and turned all night--I could no longer live without him.

I felt as if I were sleepwalking through work all morning. Luckily, finals were over and I had a light day, mostly scoring papers and finishing paperwork. I was working up the courage to make the two phone calls that I had promised myself I would complete by the end of the day. I sat back in my office chair, staring at the picture on my desk of me and Rachel in Cape Cod on our honeymoon last summer. It was actually the last time I could remember feeling truly happy with Rachel. We hadn’t yet moved in together, and I was absurdly optimistic about our future together. I had been able to push aside my longing for Elio for a few months while we were busy planning our wedding, distracted by caterers, florist, and photographers. I had convinced myself that once I was actually in a heterosexual marriage, I would somehow miraculously _become_ heterosexual. I scoffed aloud at my idiocy.

“Everything okay in there, Weiss?” Dr. Sampson, one of the linguistic professors, had been walking by.

“Oh sorry… yes, of course. Everything is great. Looking forward to summer break,” I replied, quickly donning my “carefree professor” mask.

“You and Rachel planning any trips?” He had no idea what a loaded question that was.

“Nothing so far. We’ll see.” I needed to end this conversation. “Well, enjoy your time off as well.”

Luckily, Dr. Sampson was an expert at reading tone and body language and took the hint to move on. I used that opportunity to close my office door and give myself some much-needed privacy. I decided it was time. I picked up the receiver and quickly dialed the familiar number to our home phone. Rachel picked up after the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Rachel. It’s Oliver.”

A long pause. And then a sigh.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Oliver.”

“Rachel, please. I just want to meet to talk. I know I don’t deserve that, but please give me a chance to be honest with you.”

Another bitter laugh. “For once?”

“I deserve that. Will you please talk to me?”

We agreed to meet for Friday afternoon at the house in Connecticut. It wasn’t exactly neutral territory, but I was so in the wrong, that I was willing to go to her turf.

After I hung up with Rachel, I called Elio, my heart beating out of my chest. The phone rang several times, and eventually the answering machine picked up. I left a message, begging him to call me back, to give me a chance to explain. 

By Friday afternoon, I had called three more times, leaving increasingly desperate messages each time. I was making a fool of myself, but I didn’t care. I just had to reach him, and it was clear he was avoiding me.

I left work early that afternoon to get to the house to talk with Rachel long before dinner. I parked, walked to the door, then hesitated. Should I just go in? I was already feeling as if I was just a visitor to this house, even though we hadn’t yet separated. I decided that knocking would be weird and might upset Rachel even more, so I used my key to enter, calling a tentative “Hello?” as I walked in the door.

Rachel appeared from the kitchen immediately, clutching a glass of wine, her face solemn. She stopped and looked at me expectantly, saying nothing.

“Should we…. go sit in the living room?” I asked, my voice thin and unfamiliar to me. She shrugged and followed as I led the way.

I sat on the couch and Rachel took a seat across from me on the arm chair. At first glance, she appeared stoic, almost indifferent. But I knew Rachel well, and I could see that she was barely keeping herself together. Her lips were pressed together tightly to contain any emotion from possibly escaping; her eyes shined slightly with unshed tears. Seeing her in this state almost caused me to break down, but I controlled myself. I had no right to an emotional collapse. She sat silently, waiting for me to begin.

I took a deep breath. I had so much to say, and all of it was difficult.

“Rachel, first of all, I am so sorry. I’ve betrayed you and I’ve betrayed our marriage vows. I made terrible, selfish decisions, and if I could take them back and do things differently, I would in a heartbeat.”

I glanced at her, to see how she was taking this. Her eyes were two angry steel orbs, boring holes of hatred into me. She finally spoke.

“Has it been since Italy?”

I sat up straight, confused. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Have you been fucking the boy ever since you were in Italy with him?”

Oh. That was a complicated question.

“No. I mean, yes, we were together when I was in Italy.” Her eyebrows raised. “But I said goodbye to him that summer, and I didn’t see him for two years. I swear”

She shook her head, incredulous. “And I should believe you now, why?”

“I guess you shouldn’t. I mean, you have no reason to. But I promise you, it’s true.”

I then proceeded to tell her all the things that I should have told her years ago. How I’ve known I was attracted to men since I was a teen, but the fear of my father kept me far in the closet until I left for Harvard. How I experimented with men all through college, mostly when I was working as a bartender at a bar that had a large gay clientele. Then my trip to Italy, and my romance with Elio. I tried to stop them, but a few tears fell from my eyes as I spoke of him, and how I had to leave him at the train station. I ventured a quick look at her after this, and I thought I almost saw a look of sympathy in her eyes.

I then went on to my decision to leave that life behind. It was too complicated, too painful. And I did love Rachel. I repeated this to her several times. I never faked my affection for her. But I was never _in love_ with her, and the pain and burden of the lie I was living became too difficult once we moved in together. This is when I decided to get the apartment. I told her how I needed a place where I could be honest about who I was. I admitted that I would sometimes go to gay bars and nightclubs during the week, and that was how I reconnected with Elio. I left out how I found him falling-down drunk on the dance floor.

“Did you hook up with men at these bars?” she asked, avoiding my eyes.

I swallowed. I had to be honest. “Yes. But I never had sex with any of them, oral or anal. I swear.”

She suddenly lifted her head and looked at me, tears streaming down her face. “But with Elio?”

My voice belonged to a stranger. “Yes, I had sex with Elio. We used protection.”

She abruptly stood up. “I’ve heard enough. I’m sorry that you have felt like you have had to live this lie all your life, but I will never forgive you for dragging me into your deception. You cheated on me with a BOY, all while leading me to believe that you wanted to start a family. This marriage is over, Oliver.”

With that, she left the room, running up the stairs to our bedroom. I silently picked up my keys and let myself out.

Later that night, once I was back in the city, I called Elio’s apartment one last time. The answer machine again came on; I hung up, despondent. I was desperate to speak with him and even more desperate to see him. I paced around my bedroom, frantic to hear his voice. Finally, I couldn’t stand the inertia of staying in my claustrophobic space. I had to see him. I drove to his building, practically running up the four flights of stairs to his apartment. I rang the bell then stood waiting, bouncing on my feet with impatience.

A muscular blond boy I had never seen before answered the door. He did not seem surprised to see me.

“Are you Oliver?”

I nodded quickly. “Yes. Is Elio here?”

He shook his head, as if I were a bit of an idiot.

“Nope, he changed his flight and left for Italy a few hours ago. Sorry, man.”


	11. Italy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver goes to Italy to find Elio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short transition chapter to get Oliver to Italy. It was hard getting back into the angst of this fic. Hope this chapter satisfies.
> 
> As always, thank you to my readers for your encouraging support! And thank you to my incredibly patient beta-reader, @hendricksplease.

Chapter 11

Italy

Elio’s roommate shut the door, leaving me stunned and alone in the hallway. Of course he was gone. Of fucking course. I leaned despondently against the wall, trying to wrap my head around this fact and consider my next move.

Italy. I had to go to Italy. Did I possibly dare? The semester was over, and I had two weeks before my summer classes began. I no longer answered to Rachel. There was literally nothing holding me back.

But should I just show up, or call and hope that Elio would speak to me? I had so much to think about, but first… I needed a drink. Or possibly several.

I left Elio’s building and headed in the direction of home. It was an hour walk to my apartment, but the night air felt good, and was helping me think. I stopped at a few pubs for a few shots of Bourbon, then finally stumbled into my front door sometime after midnight. I fell onto my couch, my thoughts still so heavy that it was hard to keep my head upright. My drunken brain told me to throw some clothes into a bag and call a cab to the airport right then. But when I stood up to search for my passport and almost fell over, I realized that trying to navigate JFK and buy an international plane ticket in the middle of the night, more than a little inebriated, might not be the best idea. I crashed into bed and fell into a deep sleep.

*****

I woke the next morning, hungover but newly determined to make my way to Italy. I glanced at my nightstand clock and did some math—it was 10:20am in Manhattan, so it would be 4:20pm in Crema. Most of the family would most likely be home, taking their afternoon siestas.

I needed to prepare myself for this call, so I took some aspirin and made some strong coffee. I thought about what I would say if Elio answered. Would I grovel and beg forgiveness? Or just let him know that I was coming? Would he even speak with me, or would he hang up immediately?

Finally, I couldn’t wait to find out any longer. I picked up the receiver and dialed the number I had committed to memory after my yearly calls to check in on Sami and Annella, my heart in my stomach.

“Pronto. Perlman residence.”

Sami. Relief coursed through my body.

“Dr. Perlman. It’s Oliver.”

“Oliver! It’s so good to hear your voice! I’d ask how you are, but I think I know. I had a devastated boy arrive on my doorstep late last night.”

My heart sank. Of course Elio would have told them everything.

“Yes. I am so, so sorry. I really messed things up with Elio, but I’m taking step to make them right.”

There was silence on the other end; I knew the professor was thinking of the right words.

Finally he spoke, sadness or possibly disappointment slowing his speech. “He is hurting, Oliver. He has been working on getting over you for quite a while. When he let you back into his life a second time, it was a gift. I’m afraid you’ve squandered that gift.”

His words squeezed my heart because they confirmed my worst fears. My throat was suddenly dry and I struggled to swallow.

“I’m coming to Italy, Professor. I understand that he may refuse to see me, but I have to at least try. I have no choice.” I took a deep breath. “I love him.”

“I know you do, Oliver, and I won’t try to stop you. But I also can’t make any promises on Elio’s behalf. If you come, know that he may refuse to even speak with you.”

“I understand that, and I am coming no matter what.”

“And that tells me everything I need to know. I will see you soon, Oliver.”

*****

Ten hours later, I was on a red-eye flight to Milan, having paid through-the-nose for a last-minute ticket. The money meant nothing to me; all I could think about was getting to Elio. I had pushed my feelings for him down into the dark recesses of my mind for two long years. Now that I had finally allowed myself to admit how much he meant to me, it was like a pipe had burst in my heart and I could think of nothing else.

I lay my head back and fell into a restless sleep. I dreamt of Elio as he looked in the summer of 1983. In my dream, we were on the streets of Bergamo, drunk, carefree, and happy. There was no one else around, and we held hands and I pulled him to me for a kiss, right there in the middle of the street. My eyes were closed as I pressed my lips against his, when suddenly Rachel’s voice echoed in my dream. “He’s just a boy!”

I felt my body startle and my eyes flew open. I looked around the plane cabin, momentarily confused. The elderly women next to me stared at me with concern.

“Are you alright, dear?”

I nodded, steadying my breath. “Yes, I am so sorry. I was dreaming.”

I stayed awake the rest of the flight.

*****

My flight landed at 1pm local time. I stopped in the airport bathroom to splash some water on my face, brush my teeth and pull a comb through my hair. I looked just how I felt: like a wreck of a human being. I stared at my reflection for several minutes, trying to gather the courage to face the next few hours. I took a deep, steadying breath, then left to find a cab.

It was a gorgeous Italian afternoon, and it hit me that it had been almost exactly two years since my arrival at the villa that fateful summer. I was suddenly overcome with déjà vu of another cab ride, a life time ago. I was nervous then, but only because I didn’t know what to expect of that summer opportunity. I had no idea that my life was about to change forever. The moment I had set my eyes on Elio, something inside me had shifted and never returned to the way it had been.

I tried in vain to quiet the butterflies in my stomach. I leaned my head back on the seat and watched the beautiful Italian countryside passing by my cab window, but I was too on-edge to really appreciate it. The butterflies soon turned into wild jackrabbits as we got closer to Crema, and by the time we pulled into the villa’s driveway, I was practically paralyzed with anxiety. I asked the cab driver to leave my bags in the trunk and wait a few minutes, not sure what to expect.

As I started up the walkway to the house, Sami and Annella burst out of the door, Sami clapping in delight at my arrival. My nerves eased up the slightest bit at the sight of them.

“Oliver, such as sight for sore eyes! Come, come, let me see you,” Annella took me by arms and gave me a once-over.

“You’ve lost some weight. We will fix that,” she said with a smile, pulling me into an embrace.

Next, Sami gave me a quick hug. “So good to see you, Oliver.”

Elio’s absence was conspicuous. I asked with hesitation, “Is he here?”

Annella put a hand to her mouth in a gesture of distress.

Sami spoke. “He is here, Oliver. He’s out back. But he is not ready to see you yet.”

My heart sank. I had been expecting this, but it still hurt considerably.

Sami continued on. “I think he just needs some more time. He was very interested in the fact that you were flying here to see him. But his guard is up, very high, and I think it is going to take some work for him to let it down again.”

I nodded with relief. I felt hope in Sami’s words. Elio needed me to prove myself to him, and I was more than ready to do that.

Annella chimed in. “Please, Oliver, let me give you the address of a lovely inn in Crema that you can stay at tonight. We will work on Elio at dinner. At the very least, he should agree to speak with you after you’ve come all this way to see him. Call us when you wake in the morning.”

She gave me the name of the inn, and I gave them each a grateful hug before leaving them and Elio behind once again.

*****

I found the inn, a quaint cottage on the edge of Crema, not far from the villa. They did, indeed, have a room available for the night, so I checked-in, took a much-needed nap, then walked into Crema to get some dinner. It felt both wonderful and strange to be back. To see the familiar sights- the Piazza del Duomo, the cathedral, the newsstand, the shops and bars I used to frequent. I even saw a few familiar faces, but I kept my head down, too emotional to socialize. I entered a nearby trattoria, ordered some wine and pasta, and sat near the back.

I finished the bottle of wine, dreading the prospect of facing an empty bedroom and a night alone, wondering what Elio was doing just a few miles away. It was dark by the time I left the restaurant. I walked slowly and took the long way back, trying to sober up in the warm, Italian air. 

It felt surreal to wander the streets of Crema, and the ghost of Elio haunted every corner. After an hour or so of visiting every spot that contained a memory of our summer, I finally made my way back to the inn, exhausted and eager for a bed. As I got closer to the front door, I could just make out through the dark the form of someone sitting on the front stoop. The person saw me and abruptly stood up. My heart stopped- it was Elio.

I rushed to him. “Elio. You’re here.” I tried to reach for his hand, but he took a step back. It was late, and he looked sleepy and disheveled, as if he had come from his bed.

“I’m still mad, Oliver. But I couldn’t sleep knowing that you’re here.” He chanced a glance at me. “Knowing that you came for me.”

I stepped closer to him, hoping that he wouldn’t back away. “I did, Elio. I’m here to apologize for lying to you. I am so, so sorry for not being honest. But I am willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

Elio stood in silence, looking away from me, deep in thought. His hair was sticking up in ten different directions; his eyes looked tired and sad. I waited for him to speak and reveal my fate.

He sighed then finally looked into my eyes. “You hurt me, Oliver. I trusted you, and you fucked that up.”

I nodded miserably. I was here to take whatever he had to dish out. “I know I did. I really did. But I came clean to Rachel, and I… I left her, Elio. I had to be honest with her, because I was finally honest with myself. I need to be with you, Elio.”

Elio listened to this speech, expressionless, but when I was done, I could see something in him shift. The wall in him was starting to come down. His face softened and the smallest hint of a smile started to emerge.

“So, you’re willing to do anything to make it up to me?” he asked.

I nodded eagerly. “Anything, Elio.”

“I can work with that. Come on, show me your room.” And with that, Elio broke out into a wide, mischievous smile. My body wilted with relief. It was going to be okay. I took him by his hand and led him inside.


	12. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, our boys are finally reunited in Italy. So, here... have some fluffy smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always struggle with smut, but this was pretty fun to write. 
> 
> As always, thank you SO MUCH to my incredible readers. Without you, I'd be writing about cocks and come for myself, and that's no fun.
> 
> And thank you to my fabulous, sensational, fantastic, and ALSO incredible beta-reader, @hendricksplease xoxoxo

Chapter 12

Forgiveness

I led the way into my small but comfortable room at the inn. Elio stopped in the doorway and gave me a reproachful look.

“We need to talk first,” he said, as if I was trying to convince him otherwise. I smiled to myself, wondering if he were trying to persuade himself rather than me.

I pulled out the desk chair for him, then sat on the bed and waited as he settled in. He took in the room, looking everywhere but at me. He was fidgety and anxious, which was making me nervous. Finally, I couldn’t stand the silence.

“Elio. Will you please look at me?” He reluctantly raised his gaze to me, lifting his eyebrows expectantly.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “I just wanted to say thank you for coming here, and for being willing to talk to me. I hope that this means that maybe… there is still a chance for us?”

Elio stood up again, pacing around the small room, his nerves getting the best of him.

“You know, Oliver… I _want_ to stay mad at you longer. That’s what you deserve, you know? Don’t you think?” He looked at me for a response so I nodded, unsure of what else to do.

“Yes. I should,” he mumbled to himself, then stopped directly in front of me, his legs inches from my own. His eyes met mine. “But I’ve never been able to stay upset at you, Oliver. Fuck! If it were up to me, we’d be in that bed already.” 

His face flushed at this confession. I felt my lips curve into a smile hearing these words. He laughed gently. “Don’t get your hopes up. I _am _able to resist you, believe it or not!”

I _didn’t_ believe it, but I decided to keep that to myself. I reached out and softly rubbed my hand up and down his leg.

“I don’t expect anything tonight, Elio. I am just so relieved to see your beautiful face. But I need to know… does this mean that you forgive me?”

Elio sighed with resignation, taking a step closer to me. I wrapped an arm around his knees, and pulled him between my own legs. Once there, he hooked his arms around my neck and our eyes met. He looked more alert now than just a few minutes ago.

“Yes, I forgive you. But I swear, Oliver, this is it. I need to be able to trust you from now on. If you _ever_ break that trust again, we are _over-_over. For good.”

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and pressed my face into the front of his soft sleep shirt; he gently stroked my hair.

“Thank you,” I murmured into his belly. I suddenly felt overcome by a sense of gratitude towards Elio; my eyes welled with unshed tears.

He dropped onto my lap, perhaps sensing my vulnerability. He started to nuzzle his face into the crook of my neck and gently stroked my hair again. His lips softly grazed my skin, causing me to shiver at his touch. 

Having him back in my arms was like coming home after a long, unpleasant journey. We still had not kissed, instead choosing to simply hold each other, and that was enough for now. He was soft and warm and smelled like my Elio. I ran my hands up and down his back, then pulled him even closer.

“I missed you so much.” I heard my voice crack with emotion. _How did he do this to me_? “I’m so, so sorry. And I… I love you, Elio.” 

I had finally said it. It had been true for so long and now he knew. And I had never said anything more honest or more real in my life. _Cor cordium_. He was the heart of my heart.

He lifted his head at my words and searched my eyes. “I missed you, too, Oliver. Even when I was so pissed at you, and I wanted to forget you, I still missed you. I hated you for that.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I love you, too.”

There is nothing like the feeling of knowing someone you love loves you back in the exact same way. Elio and I had experienced this during our summer together, but we had never discussed it—we had never even acknowledged it. So to now have our feelings out in the open, and to be secure in the knowledge that they were mutual, was revelatory and empowering. I felt like I could do anything with him by my side.

I took him by the chin and pulled his lips to mine--finally, FINALLY seizing the kiss that I’d been dreaming of since I got on that plane last night. I slipped my tongue into his mouth, and he gave a soft moan that sent sparks of _want_ down my spine. My mind became cloudy, and the only thing I could think of was _how do I make him moan like that again?_

He pushed his hands through my hair again and then _pulled_. And despite his insistence that he could resist me, the growing bulge nudging against my stomach was telling a different story.

I pulled away, causing a soft whine from Elio. “Baby,” I started, “I know you said that we didn’t have to…”

His hand shot up, covering my mouth and muffling my words and giving me flashbacks to the night he appeared in my hallway. “I lied,” he gasped. “I want to be inside you, Oliver. I need that.” He began to mouth my neck, sucking and biting, surely leaving a mark. “Can I have that?” he mumbled, his mouth barely moving from my skin.

I had to laugh at his insane question, at the thought that I would ever turn him down. God, I loved this horny boy. I tilted my head back so he could suckle my throat and answered him, my voice hoarse with need. “Elio, you can do anything you want to me. Always. I am yours.”

He disconnected his mouth from my skin and looked up at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Anything?”

I nodded furiously. Anything.

Anything.

_Anything_.

*******

Elio’s nimble fingers were confident, experienced. One of his hands lightly stroked my chest, relaxing me while somehow simultaneously arousing me. His other hand slowly worked me open with skill that he definitely did not have two summers ago. I was on my back, Elio sprawled beside me. I let my legs fall open wider as first one finger and then another explored deeper and deeper, finally hitting the spot that made my body jerk with pleasure.

“Elio,” I panted, “I’m ready. Please, I’m ready”

He smirked, enjoying being the one in control. “Almost.”

He pressed into me one last time, hitting my prostate so firmly that I feel my cock leak with need. “Oh my… fuck!” I groaned.

He pulled his fingers out of me with a satisfied grin, leaving me empty and throbbing. “_Now_ you’re ready.”

His voice was teasing and all-knowing. I was reminded again that the tables had turned and Elio had far outpaced me in terms of experience. He reached over and grabbed a condom and more lube from the bedside table. He kneeled next to me, making quick work of both, in a series of movements that seemed routine for him. I was mesmerized at the way he deftly grabbed his sheathed cock, slathering on the lube.

He caught me watching him and smiled. “Taking notes?” His face was shiny with sweat, his hair curly and wild. He looked otherworldly and I had never wanted him more.

I attempted to hide my arousal with an eye roll. “How do you want me?” I asked in an overly-casual voice.

He groaned and pulled at his erection. “Oh my god, Oliver. Say that again.”

My brows furrowed with confusion. “How do you want me?”

He grinned wickedly. “I love when you ask me that. And I want you _every way_, eventually. But tonight, stay on your back. I couldn’t stand to not see your handsome face.”

Elio hovered over me, our eyes locked, and I gave him a quick nod to signal that I was ready for him. He began to push into me, stretching me as my body struggled to accommodate him. I was uncomfortable at first, feeling like a virgin again after two years of anal celibacy. But Elio kissed me and took it so slow, pressing in gently, then pulling out just as carefully, that eventually it hurt less.

And then it didn’t hurt at all.

And then I remembered why I loved this so much. Elio was completely inside of me, he had become a part of me, and I felt full and electrified. The pleasure spread from that warm hole deep inside of me to every limb of my body. I bucked my hips into him and he took that as a sign that I was alright, and he began to fuck me faster. He pushed into me, again and again, his sweat dripping onto my chest.

I tried to contain myself, not wanting to wake anyone else at the inn, but I eventually let a loud expletive escape. Elio giggled, but didn’t slow his pace. His eyes had closed with concentration as he rhythmically pounded into me, hitting my spot just right with each thrust. My orgasm was building, and I reached up to touch myself.

“I’m close…” I gasped, stroking my erection. Elio bent down and delivered a searing kiss, and I could feel his cock swell and throb. He pulled off my lips and buried his face in the crook of my neck; he clutched me as a drowning man would clutch a life-preserver, and I could feel his release surging into me in powerful waves. I came seconds later, covering both our bellies with my own sticky semen.

We lay with our limbs intertwined, his lean body covering mine, for several long minutes. The room was stuffy and hot, but felt like a cocoon, keeping us safe from the outside world. I could feel his heart racing, and we were both out of breath. Every inch of our exposed bodies was touching in some way. We were practically one being, and I again had the realization that I could not live without this man in my life.

We eventually cleaned up and crawled back into bed, our bodies spent. I asked Elio if it was okay that he stayed the night and he scoffed at the question. I had forgotten who his parents were. I immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I was finally where I was supposed to be.

*****

We slept in late the next morning, the combination of my jet-lag, our late-night activities, and the comfort of having each other in bed keeping us asleep until well after 10am. I woke first, and reluctantly left the warmth of the blanket and Elio’s body to piss. When I got back, his eyes were open and a sleepy smile was on his face. I sat on the bed next to him, returning his smile.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” I asked, knowing that he had slept like a rock in my arms.

“So good. I still just can’t… I can’t believe you’re here, Oliver.”

In the light of day, with Elio in my bed looking adorably disheveled, I couldn’t believe this was real, either. I was back in Italy. I was back with Elio. My marriage was over, and this was… this was going to _be_ something. It seemed almost impossible.

“Me, neither, to be honest. It must be a dream.”

“Well, if it’s a dream, let’s make the best of it before one of us wakes up.” 

And with that, he surged up and pulled me down onto the bed, causing me to gasp. Then he took me into his mouth, causing me to gasp even louder. I was hard within seconds.

“Good… plan…” I panted.

Breakfast could wait.


	13. Villa Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver returns to the villa for the first time since the summer of 1983 <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CONQUERED MY WRITER'S BLOCK!
> 
> That is all.
> 
> And of course, thank you to all my lovely readers. I LOVE YOU ALL! PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT! xoxoxo

Chapter 13

Villa Homecoming

It was almost noon by the time we made it to the villa. I helped Elio out of the cab and grabbed my duffle bag, marveling again at the fact that I was really here with Elio by my side. The air smelled of peaches and apricots, and the gratitude that suddenly swelled in my heart threatened to overwhelm me. I inhaled a deep breath to steady my emotions and took Elio’s hand. He squeezed it with reassurance, sensing how nervous I was.

We found Annella and Sami out back, lounging by the pool. They sat up in synchrony when they heard our footsteps, with identical smiles spreading across their faces.

“Boys, good morning!” Sami greeted us jovially. “Elio, when you didn’t come down for breakfast this morning, I had hoped that perhaps you had gone to see Oliver. I am so happy to see that was the case.”

“Have you eaten? Are either of you hungry?” Annella chimed in.

Elio smirked. “Well, we _have _worked up quite an appetite. I’m starved.”

I felt my face flush at his innuendo, but Sami and Annella were unflustered, obviously used to Elio’s cheeky remarks.

“Mafalda can get you both something to eat. Oliver, she is going to be so happy to see you.” 

My heart instantly warmed at the thought of seeing Mafalda again. She _was _Italy to me. My face must have shown my excitement at seeing her, because Elio immediately started pulling me towards the kitchen.

“Come on, let’s go let her fawn all over you.

Mafalda looked up from the onions she was chopping as we stepped into her kitchen. Her eyes lit up at the sight of me. She walked over and took my face in her hands.

“Ulliva, mia muvi star! Così bello vedere il tuo bel viso.” She squeezed my cheeks with affection, then returned to her chopping without another word.

The outdoor table had been cleared, but Mafalda brought out some fruit, croissants and of course some Nutella for Elio. I laughed with deep affection. “Some things never change.”

We settled in and he leaned over to deliver a soft kiss on my cheek. “You know you love it.”

_I know I love you, _I thought, but didn’t say. I didn’t want to overpower Elio with the rush of emotions I’d been feeling since the night before.

Mafalda came out to pour us apricot juice. She ruffled Elio’s hair with affection as she handed him his glass, then softly rubbed my cheek with the back of her hand after she handed mine to me. I tried to remember the last time I had felt so loved and welcomed, and realized that it must have been the last time I was at the villa. I took a sip of the juice and sat back in my seat to simply appreciate where I was and who I was with. Elio must have sensed my mood; he glanced at me with a smile and asked, “Happy?”

I sighed. “The happiest.”

*****

After we ate, Elio suggested we take my bag to his room and change into our suits for a swim. It was turning into a hot day and nothing sounded better than a dip in the pool to cool off. That is, until we entered Elio’s room and he closed the door behind him with a wicked grin.

“Does being in this room bring back any memories?” he asked, stepping into my personal space.

I snorted. “What memories are you referring to, Elio?”

He threw himself head first onto the bed, then looked up at me mischievously. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe weeks of lying on this bed, wanking off to the thought of me sleeping next door?”

He had me there.

I tossed my duffle bag onto the desk chair, then climbed on top of him in the bed, pinning him underneath me. I gently nibbled on his earlobe, murmuring, “As if you weren’t doing the same.”

He giggled. “You know I was… you walked in on me at least once! But I love to think of you in here, with your pants pushed down around your ankles, touching yourself as you imagined me sleeping naked in the next room.”

His words went right to my cock, which was suddenly thickening with interest. I snickered. “Well, if I wasn’t then, I certainly am now!” 

I kissed his long neck, making sure to hit each of his birthmarks. I couldn’t help but thrust gently into him so he could feel what his words were doing to me. “I want you, Elio.”

He hummed with want and rolled his hips into me. “You can have me, Oliver, however you want me….”

“I just need to see all of you. I’ve missed your beautiful body so much,” I growled into his ear, my need for him becoming more urgent

I undressed him quickly; he still had on only his sleep pants and a t-shirt from the night before, so he was naked in seconds. Elio was never shy, and he stretched his arms over his head to show off his newly toned abs and shoulders. I crawled between his legs and slipped both hands under his small but perfect ass, then lifted him up towards me. He arched his back to give my even more access, and I rubbed my stubbled face gently against his smooth chest. He giggled at the sensation.

“Looks like you’ve been keeping up with your workout regimen?” I murmured, my lips pressed against his skin.

He huffed a laugh. “You like?”

I hummed in the affirmative as my lips continued to explore down his body. He was still slight, but tiny ripples of new muscle lined his frame. It made him, unbelievably, even sexier to me, and I wanted to worship every inch of him with my tongue. His new physique gave him confidence, and I could feel him subtly flexing his ab muscles as I nuzzled into his navel.

“Stop showing off,” I snorted into his belly.

He rolled his hips. “Get to the main event already,” he panted, his cock already hard and beginning to leak precome. I glanced up at him; his eyes were closed and his pink lips were parted. He was a picture of pretty debauchery. God, how had I ever considered giving him up?

I was no longer interested in the tease, either. I took hold of his gorgeous erection and leaned down to lick his head greedily, lapping up his come like drippings from a sinful ice cream cone. He moaned and grabbed a fistful of the sheet.

“Like that?” I had to ask.

“Mmm, shut up and keep going,” he groaned.

I had been dreaming of having his cock in my mouth all morning, so I gladly took his entire length down to the base, one hand holding him down by his hip while my other hand was stealthily sneaking between his thighs. He gasped when I slipped a saliva-slicked finger between his ass cheeks while my lips and tongue worked his erection.

“Fu-u-u-uck, Oliver. I’ve missed you so much…”

I picked up the pace on his cock, my mouth bobbing faster and faster until I felt his dick start to swell even harder. Knowing he was close, I crooked the finger that was burrowed deep inside him just enough to hit his prostate in what I knew was exactly the right place. Elio yelled out and his semen was suddenly filling my mouth. I swallowed it down eagerly, wanting to taste every drop of what Elio had to give.

As he caught his breath coming down from his orgasm, I crawled up next to him on the bed and pulled him close to me. I gently nudged my nose behind his ear and inhaled the sweet scent of his curls. He curved his neck to look at me.

“You fucker! You’re still completely dressed!” His words lack any real bite, though. We both knew that Elio loved to be naked while I remained fully clothed.

I bit his earlobe softly. “Oh hush. You were going to have to get undressed to get your bathing suit on anyway. I just made it a little more worth your while.”

He let out a soft giggle, acknowledging that I was right, then snaked a hand down to my crotch to feel my bulge that was, by this time, quite hard.

“Should I return the favor… again?”

I kissed the top of his head and wiggled out from under his arms.

“No, I’m good. Later. I want all of you… later.”

He turned to lie on his back, crossing his legs and folding his arms under his head, as if he were cloud-watching in a meadow. He gazed up at me with a wide smile.

“Well, I am just going to watch while you get your swim suit on. You got to see me, now I get to see you.”

I rolled my eyes, but put on a show for him, slowly peeling off each piece of clothing one at a time, batting my eyelashes while he hummed a strip-tease song. I felt silly, but it made him laugh and smile, and that sound was all I wanted in the world.

*****

The rest of the household was enjoying their mid-afternoon siesta by the time we arrived at the pool, so we had it all to ourselves. We didn’t do much actual swimming, instead spending our time in the pool talking and kissing until our fingers were pruney. We reluctantly climbed out of the pool and moved to lie out on our towels in Heaven. 

I was having almost continuous flashbacks to our last summer together here, but with one huge difference. Now, our relationship was completely out in the open, and it felt momentous and incredibly liberating. We could kiss without looking over our shoulder; we could speak freely about our relationship, and not speak in code as we had two years ago; we could do something as simple as hold hands and not have to worry about who might see.

I reflected back on my emotions that summer, how quickly they had become so unexpectedly intense. But as strong as my feelings for Elio had been then, they were dwarfed by what they had evolved into over the last month. I wasn’t spending half my time with him denying how I felt to myself, and the other half trying to figure out how to tell him that what we had wouldn’t… couldn’t last past our enchanted six weeks in Crema. (I never figured out how to do this, and thus never did tell him. I sorely regretted this omission). Instead, I could just… _lean into_ my feelings and actually plan for a future. It was amazing, and I just prayed that Elio felt the same way. I knew that we needed to have a talk about what “we” were--what our relationship was and where we were going--and soon.

We had dinner that night with Sami and Annella in the backyard under the trees. Mafalda made creamy Risotto alla Milanese with Ossobuco, a special occasion meal that I knew was for my benefit. We drank far too much red wine, then had some chewy Torrone for dessert. We joked that we would need to be rolled up to bed that night. Despite our full bellies and alcohol-addled brains, I made love with Elio that night on those twin beds, and every moan and thrust echoed with memories from that first midnight together.

We had come full circle.


	14. La Danzing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio and Oliver visit the berm, then go dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, it has been a bit since this last updated. Hope this chapter is worth the wait!
> 
> Thank you as always to all my lovely readers! You are my inspiration, and keep me going even when my life and work are crazy (as they are right now). And thank you to my eagle-eyed beta reader, @hendricksplease <3
> 
> I *think* the next chapter will be the last... :)

Chapter 14

La Danzing

The next week in Crema was a sun-dappled daydream of naps, bike rides, incredible meals, and even better sex. I settled into life at the villa with an ease I hadn’t known two years ago, feeling like a part of the family. I was no longer working for Sami, or wasting time finding reasons to leave the property to stay away from the 17-year old boy that I couldn’t stop thinking about. I was now able to enjoy everything that the estate had to offer, including the bare skin of that same boy, now a long-limbed, insatiable man.

The first few days at the villa, we were _good _and kept our lovemaking to Elio’s bedroom. On the afternoon of our third day, however, Elio gave me a lascivious look over breakfast.

“Let’s ride over to my spot after we eat. I want to have you there,” he said in a rush while Mafalda was taking the breakfast plates into the house. I swallowed and nodded. Who was I to deny Elio anything?

It was a hot day, and by the time we arrived at the berm, our shirts were saturated with sweat. As Elio laid out our towels, I marveled at the peace and beauty of this place that seemed to be lost in time. The only sounds were the birds in the distance and a gentle wind nudging at the trees. Elio brought me a canteen of cold water and slipped an arm around my waist as we drank.

“The year after you left, I came here at least once a week just to think. I tried so fucking hard to forget you, but I never could. Reminders of you were everywhere. It was probably stupid of me to come to this spot to try _not _to think of you.” He chuckled lightly at this.

I gazed down at Elio, his face shining with perspiration, his eyes bright. He wore a carefree smile that I rarely saw in New York. I wasn’t sure if it was just from being in Italy, or from having me here, but I knew that I wanted that smile in my life forever. It was time to lay my cards on the table.

I took Elio’s hand and pulled him down next to me onto the towels. He leaned towards me, as if for a kiss, but I held out a hand to stop him.

“Wait, Elio. I want to talk first.”

His eyebrow drew up in concern. I shook my head quickly, not wanting him to worry, even for a moment. “No, no, nothing bad. I just… I need you to know how important you are to me.”

His face softened as he waited to hear me out. I took a deep breath, squeezed his hand and began.

“Elio, I need you to know—I am so in love with you, and this… us… is it for me. We can take this relationship as fast or as slow as you want, but I don’t want anyone else, ever. I stupidly let you go once, and I pushed the pain from that so deep inside of me, I thought that it might eat me alive. The day I found you at that club, you saved me. And to think I almost lost you again because I was too spineless to be honest…”

My breath hitched at the thought of how close I had been to fucking up the second chance I had been granted, and I was overcome with gratitude. “Elio, I’m not sure if I would have recovered if you hadn’t forgiven me. Thank you.”

Elio's eyes filled as he listened to my short speech. He quickly wiped a tear that threatened to escape with the heel of his hand.

“You say these things like I had a choice, Oliver,” he replied in a soft voice. His green eyes penetrated me and I felt his stare all the way to my bones. “There is _never_ a choice for me when it comes to you. Don’t you know that by now? You’re my center of gravity.”

We were quiet after that, holding hands and just sitting with the knowledge that this was it for us. We could start to plan a future together, in whatever form that would take. Our story was beginning again, in the same spot where we had our first kiss almost exactly two years ago--but this time with no expiration date. I felt euphoric... and relieved.

Elio suddenly squeezed my hand, then hopped up from his towel, pulling off his t-shirt with one fluid motion.

“Come on, Americano, let’s go for a swim.”

*****

After our dip in the water, we fell asleep on our towels, drying off in the sun. I was awoken with the sensation of Elio’s lips pressing down my spine, one vertebra at a time.

“Mmm, what’re you doing?” I muttered, still half asleep, but thoroughly enjoying my wake-up call.

“Nothing,” came Elio’s muffled answer, his mouth still attached to my skin. He had crawled between my legs and was slowly pulling down my bathing suit as his lips explored farther and farther south on my body. He reached my ass and playfully nuzzled his nose into my cleft.

“My favorite,” he said, then gave my left cheek a bite that was sure to leave a mark.

I yelped in surprise. “Hey, careful down there!” I pushed up on my elbows and scanned the area for signs of other people. “Are you sure we’re alright here? No one will come?”

Elio unceremoniously yanked my suit the rest of the way off my legs. Well, that settled that. “No one will come, Oliver. I promise.” And he dived back down between my legs, spreading my cheeks with his hands. I gasped when I felt his hot tongue lick up my crevice, then begin to probe into my hole, my back arching reflexively.

“Oh fuck, Elio. I don’t even care if someone comes. Don’t stop,” I managed to pant.

Elio kept at it, opening me up with his tongue and then his fingers until I was a wet, writhing mess on my towel. He was two fingers deep inside me when he finally wriggled out of his own suit using only his free hand. His cock jutted out from his body, stiff and leaking. He pressed his fingers deep one last time, gently curling them until they hit my prostate with practiced precision. My entire body was ablaze, starting at my asshole.

“Are you ready for me?” he breathed into the back of my neck, his words going straight to my own throbbing dick. I nodded quickly, too gone for words. I lifted my ass in the air to give him more access.

Elio quickly donned the condom that had been waiting in the grass for its moment. He spit on his hand, quickly rubbing his saliva over the head of his cock. He was so assured in everything he did, it made me want his even more. I found my voice long enough to pant, “Fuck me, Elio.”

He grinned as he rubbed the head of his dick up and down my ass a few times, then began to slide into me. I was loose from his fingers and tongue, as well as our previous night’s activities, so there was no pain at all this time. It was pure pleasure as he slowly filled me up, every cell in my body coming alive once he was fully swathed inside me. I pushed back onto him, greedy to feel him even deeper in me. He groaned at this, his voice low and primal.

He began driving into me, gripping my shoulders to give him leverage, our moans synchronizing with his hard thrusts. I clutched the towel with both hands, my own hard cock rubbing deliciously against the soft fabric. His rutting grew faster and more erratic as he chased his orgasm. He hit my prostate again and again, expletives falling from my mouth with each direct strike.

Suddenly, Elio wrapped an arm around my chest and lifted us both us onto our knees. He kept thrusting into me, but was now able to wrap a fist around my erection and he began to jerk me off. I reached behind me and put my hands on his ass, loving the way I could feel it flex as he pounded into me.

“Fuck, Elio, I’m close,” I growled, as my balls tightened and my cock swelled in his capable hands.

“Me, too,” he gasped, and he thrust almost violently into me as he climaxed. He fastened his mouth onto my neck as he wrenched an orgasm out of me soon after.

He pulled me back down onto the towel, his dick still encased inside me, his fist lightly stroking my flagging erection. He gently kissed my neck as we both caught our breath and came down from our orgasms. He was right: no one had come… except the two of us, of course.

And now we had made a new memory at his spot. Our first kiss, and now our first outdoor fuck.

*****

Later that night, we were in the living room--Elio lazily playing Chopin on the piano while I picked through a borrowed Italian history book of Sami’s. He suddenly stopped playing and turned to face me on the piano stool.

“I have an idea. Let’s go dancing tonight.”

I didn’t answer right away. I was unsure if I was ready to see the ghosts of summer past who might be at La Danzing that night.

I sighed then spoke. “I don’t know, Elio. Chiara might be there, or some of your other friends. There will be a lot of questions. I’m not sure if I’m up for that.”

I glanced over at Elio who looked crestfallen. “Are you embarrassed to be back with me?” he asked sadly. I couldn't bear to see him look that way.

“No, no! That’s not it at all. It’s just going to be... a lot. But if you want to go dancing, fuck it. Let’s go dancing.” I stood up and took his hand, pulling him up off the stool. “Let’s get out of here before I change my mind.”

We changed into nicer going-out clothes and brushed our hair. An hour later, we were pulling up to La Danzing, having borrowed Sami’s trusty Fiat. I took the key out of the ignition and listened—strains of Duran Duran’s “Wild Boys” cut through the quiet Italian night. I turned to Elio, my nerves starting to get the best of me.

“So who do you think might be here tonight?”

He wrinkled his nose, thinking. “I don’t know. Everyone is home from Uni. Marzia is still in Milan, but Giada and Marta are home. Jean-Paul and Francisco could be here, and maybe Marco?” He paused, then added, “Chiara…”

I gave a silent groan. I hadn’t seen Chiara since I waved to her from the back window of that bus to Bergamo. My final day in Crema, I had taken the coward’s way out and not gone to say goodbye to her before I left. I couldn’t face her questions then, but I realized that I may have to answer them tonight. It would be the right thing to do.

I nodded to Elio. “Okay. Let’s go face the Italian music.” Elio grinned as he leaned over to give my cheek a quick pinch. I smiled back at his playful gesture; he was worth whatever discomfort I might have to experience that night.

We entered the outdoor bar area, Elio leading the way and pulling me in by my hand. He immediately spied a group of his friends at a table near the dance floor. He lifted his chin in greeting and chuckled at the shocked expressions on their faces as they each noticed, one-by-one, my tall form behind him.

I leaned down to talk into his ear over the loud music. “Why don’t you go and say hello to your friends. Maybe give them a heads up about us? I’ll get our drinks. What do you want?”

“Get me a Campari, please,” he answered with a quick kiss. My heart fluttered at his public display of affection. I loved it. I watched as he strode over to his table of friends, so comfortable and confident in his own skin, and was once again amazed at how every little thing he did made me love him even more.

I went to the bar to order Elio’s Campari and a martini for me. The bartender side-eyed my order, so I gave him detailed instruction on how to make it. Fortunately, his English was better than my Italian. I gave him several liras to pay and was waiting for my change when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder.

“Oliver?” came the surprised female voice. I spun around to face the inevitable: Chiara. I had to admit, she looked beautiful. Her hair was longer than two years ago, and she had lost weight. She was angular and somehow more sophisticated. She pulled me into a tight hug.

“It is so good to see you! I didn’t know you were coming this summer. Are you staying at the Perlman’s again?” Her English had improved considerably in the last two years.

“It’s great to see you, too. Yes, I’m staying at the villa. Of course.”

She pulled back, holding onto my arms with both hands, and gave me a once-over.

“You are looking well, Oliver. Of course, you always did. Are you still teaching?” she asked, still clutching my arms.

“I’m a Classics professor at Columbia. I’m here for just a few more days, and then my summer semester starts.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, Columbia? Elio is at Julliard now! Do you ever run into him?”

I pressed my lips together with just a smidgen of awkwardness. “Well, as it turns out…” and I turned my head in the direction of Elio’s table. She followed the movement of my head, gazing out across the bar until she saw Elio, now seated with all his friends, but his eyes fastened firmly on the two of us. He gave a tentative wave when he saw Chiara look over at him.

“Oh! You… and Elio…” I nodded as she put the pieces together. She pulled me back into another hug. “That is wonderful, Oliver. I am so happy for you both. Really.”

I held her for a few second but then pulled back to look her in the eye.

“Chiara, I never got a chance to say goodbye that summer. I know we were never officially an item, but it was pretty shitty of me to not have said goodbye. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, dismissing my concern. “Don’t worry about it at all, Oliver. Annella told me that you and Elio were together. Really, I should have figured it out. The signs were all there.” She gave a pensive sigh. “I didn’t see it because I didn’t want to see it. But I am glad that you found your way back to each other. I can’t wait to hear _all about it_.”

We walked over to the table where Elio was sitting with his friends, and a chorus of welcomes in English and Italian greeted me. Elio sat beaming like a fool, obviously proud to show me off to everyone he knew as _his. _I couldn’t help but return the stupid grin; I was happy to show him off, as well. I sat down next to him in the chair he had saved for me, and immediately took his hand.  
  


“It’s good to be back,” I said to everyone. The table toasted my return, then mine and Elio’s relationship. Elio and I clinked glasses, and our eyes met. I knew we were thinking the same thing: how were ever so lucky as to end up back here, and with each other?

“True” by Spandau Ballet came on, and Elio and I held hands but didn’t get up to dance. As accepting as his friends had been, we knew that the rest of Italy was not ready for two men slow dancing together in a discotheque. I looked forward to being able to take him out in Manhattan, where we could be totally free, and press our bodies together on the dance floor without fear of judgement, or worse.

The rest of the night flew by in a haze of drinking, smoking, reminiscing, laughter, and, eventually, dancing. Elio’s friends accepted us as a couple immediately, and even Chiara seemed pleased that we were together. I practiced my rusty Italian all night, and Elio requested Love My Way at least four times, dragging me to the dance floor each time the d.j. gave in and played it. By the end of the night, we were drunk, sweaty, and a bit raucous.

It was a perfect night. My heart was full, and I finally felt ready to return to New York in a few days and face what would come next.


	15. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are back home... their home... in NYC. A little bit of sweet domesticity <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I am going to have a short epilogue after this. Yay!
> 
> Thank you to my readers who have stuck with me through this entire story. This was my first E/O fic, and it has been a challenge, but I think I have grown as a writer through the process of creating it. 
> 
> Thank you for every kudos and COMMENT (I heart comments). And thank you to my awesome beta reader, @hendricksplease, who recently told me that my smut writing is coming along, so I love her even more now xoxox

Chapter 15

Home

August, 1985

Saturday morning, 10:55 am

Elio and I trudged up the three flights of stairs to our apartment, arms laden with found treasures from the flea market that morning. We got to our door and I fumbled through my pockets, searching for the keys.

“Hurry Oliver,” Elio panted, out of breath. “My hand is slipping!”

I finally found my key ring and quickly opened the door, letting Elio in before he dropped the fern and painting he was carrying. He set his load down on the kitchen table, then collapsed onto our huge, recently purchased sofa. It had become his favorite place to sleep during the day.

“I’m exhausted. Let’s take a nap.”

I set down the box of items that I was carrying, kicked the door close, and began unpacking its contents onto the table: a picture frame, a set of wine glasses, another smaller plant, and a rolled up poster of David Bowie (Elio’s pick).

I shook my head. “Nope, no nap yet. Let’s hang this picture, then I’ve got yoga class at noon.”

Elio’s head popped up over the side of the couch, like a curious prairie dog.

“Yoga class? Can I come?”

I paused unrolling the wine glasses from the newspaper they had been packed in and regarded him with a touch of skepticism.

“Elio, you don’t really want to come. You hated it, remember? Last time you spent the entire hour giggling and complaining.”

He huffed at me, knowing that I was right, then threw himself back down on the couch.

“It’s just… I thought we were going to spend the day _together. _We’ve hardly seen each other this week, and tomorrow I have to rehearse all day.”

I walked over to the couch and sat down at Elio’s feet. He bent his legs at the knee to give me more room, and cast me the most pathetic puppy-dog face I had ever seen. I pulled off his sandals and began rubbing his feet, trying to placate him.

“I’ll be back by 1:30. We’ll still have all afternoon and all night together. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

His face brightened at this assurance. He sat up and pushed his hands through my hair, then delivered a soft kiss behind my ear. He knew this was one of my favorite things, and the sensation of his lips on my skin sent a shiver down the length of my spine.

“I’m holding you to that, Oliver,” he whispered, his hot breath going straight to my dick. I moaned, and contemplated dragging him into the bedroom rather than getting ready for yoga class.

Just then, the phone rang out and I jumped up to answer it, thankful for the distraction.

“Hello?”

“Oliver! So good to hear your voice! How is New York?”

“Samuel! Good, good! Everything is great here. Elio and I just got back from the Chelsea flea market. He is helping me turn my barren bachelor pad into a proper home.”

“That sounds wonderful. We can’t wait to see it, and to see the both of you. So, to that point, Annella and I just bought our plane tickets yesterday. We will be flying into La Guardia the Monday before Thanksgiving.”

“That’s fabulous. We are excited, too. Here, I’ll let you speak with Elio.” Elio took the phone, eager to catch up with his father.

It had been two weeks since he had moved in with me. He had started his sophomore year the previous Monday, and this was the first time he had spoken with his father since he had moved in, although he had talked with his mother a few days earlier. He had a lot to share with his father.

I began to work on hanging our new piece of art: a beautiful oil painting of the Italian countryside that we agreed reminded us of Crema. Elio retired to our bedroom to talk with his father, but left the door open so I could hear his end of their conversation. My heart warmed as he spoke happily about our shopping trip this morning, and how he was getting used to living with me. I chuckled as he recounted our argument about his cleaning habits, or lack thereof.

“I never realized what a neat freak he is! I know, papa… I AM! I _do _help out! God.”

There was several seconds of silence, then his voice got lower. “It’s under contract. They found a buyer a few weeks ago. I think Rachel is moving to Vermont. Or maybe New Hampshire? I get them mixed up.”

Rachel and I had agreed after several lengthy and emotional discussions to put our house on the market and split the proceeds. It had sold surprisingly fast, and before we really had time to mourn the end of our marriage and loss of the home we once shared, it was almost gone. I still hadn’t properly grieved the fact that I was losing my wife and once-best friend, and I knew that that was a bridge I would eventually have to cross. Despite the joy I was experiencing, sharing my life with Elio and knowing I was finally with person I was meant to be with, it still caused me pain knowing how badly I had hurt Rachel. I only hoped that she would move on quickly and someday find her own source of happiness.

Elio appeared in our bedroom doorway, a sad smile on his face. He still missed his parents, and talking to them was always a little bittersweet. “My dad said to tell you thank you for looking after me. I told him that was dumb, that you aren’t my caretaker.”

I strode over to him and pulled him to me. “Next time, tell him that we are taking care of _each other_. Because that is the truth.”

And I held him tight, breathing in his scent, that blend of sweet and musk that was uniquely Elio. I kissed the top of his head. “I have to get ready for yoga. Get yourself something to eat and take a nap. I want you fresh for me tonight.”

I gave his tight ass a squeeze, then went to throw on my shorts for class.

*****

I returned from yoga class, tired and sweaty, an hour and half later. Elio was, not surprisingly, fast asleep on the new couch. His face was burrowed in a throw pillow and his arms were tucked beneath him. I wondered how he was able to breathe in that position, but his body rose and fell steadily, revealing him to be alive. I watched him for a moment, my heart tugging at the sight of his body so vulnerable in slumber. I loved that he felt comfortable enough in our home to fall asleep in the middle of the living room while I was away. I wanted to cover him with a blanket, or take care of him in some other small way; but it was 80 degrees in the apartment, so I let him be.

I decided a cool shower was in order, then I’d see if Elio had eaten (I was sure that he had not). I turned on the water and pulled off my sweat-soaked tee shirt and shorts. I was just about to get under the spray when the bathroom door creaked open.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” Elio leaned against the door jam, his arms crossed, his face flushed and creased from his nap. He regarded my naked form with a lustful leer. I knew I should be used to it by now, but being the focus of his gaze still unnerved me and turned me on in equal measure.

“You’re awake.” I crossed the small bathroom and took him in my arms, pressing my lips to his. My hand slipped down between his legs and sure enough, he was hard. “Join me?” 

He smoothed his hands down my back, landing on the soft curve of my ass. He often said that he enjoyed being naked while I remained clothed, but I think he also loved when I was naked and he was still fully dressed. It brought out a domineering side in him that drove me mad.

“Turn off the water,” he commanded.

I did as he said, then he pushed me backwards until my ass hit the cool tile of the sink. He started to drop to his knees, but I grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

“I’m all sweaty…”

He glanced up with a smirk. “Good.”

Elio had no qualms concerning bodily fluids. He was no longer the innocent boy who had been so mortified at the thought on his come-soaked peach in my mouth. No, there were few things now that Elio would not put between his lips. 

He squatted down on his haunches, and spread my thighs further apart. He buried his nose in my pubic hair and took a deep inhale.

“Mmm, ripe to perfection.” 

I laughed at his impudence, settling back against the sink to enjoy the moment. If Elio wanted to be filthy, I would certainly not get in his way. He mouthed my balls then licked a long, slick stripe up my erect cock. His tongue felt so good that my legs, already fatigued from yoga, started to buckle.

“Come on, we have a bed. Let’s use it,” I gasped, as he began lapping around the head of my erection. He paused and glanced up at me, his tongue still pressed flat against my tip. He pulled away and smirked.

“Alright, let’s go to bed, old man.” He popped up and led the way the short distance to our bedroom.

“Hey, Elio,” I called to him.

“What?” came his voice from the next room.

“I want you naked by the time I get in there. You’ve got ten seconds!”

I heard him snort. “Or what?”

I grinned, thoughts of Elio laid out over my knee suddenly flooding my brain. “You’ll see.”

I heard him scrambling, pulling off his own shirt and shorts, in the next room. I walked out slowly to give him a few extra seconds, my erect cock bobbing brashly as I went, demanding attention. I grabbed it and rubbed it distractedly.

I got to the bedroom door and there was Elio, naked as a jaybird, laying casually on the bed with his legs crossed and his arms behind his head. He was smiling like the sun.

“I undressed because I wanted to, not because you told me to,” he declared.

“I don’t care _why _you’re naked… all that matters is that you _are_ naked.” I crawled on top of him, pressing my sweaty body against his. His skin was cooler than mine, and felt delicious underneath me. I nibbled on his ear. “I want to be inside you. Like, yesterday.”

I rolled my hips to help make my point. Elio moaned and thrust up so our cocks slid together, then captured my mouth in his own. We made out for several minutes, just enjoying every point of contact on our slick bodies— tangled legs, rubbing torsos, knotted tongues. I stroked my hands up and down the length of his lean body, wanting to feel every inch of smooth skin I could reach. Eventually, our grinding became obscene, and I could no longer wait to fuck him.

I reached into the nightstand drawer and grabbed the lube. We had been tested the week before and now, having gotten the all-clear from the clinic, we no longer needed to use condoms. It was an amazing feeling, to truly feel myself inside Elio, and had brought us back to our carefree days in Italy. We had been humping like bunnies for the last week.

I opened his legs wide, pressing a slick finger into him, opening him up quickly. He wiggled on my digit like a bitch in heat.

“Come on, Oliver,” Elio panted, “Fuck me already.”

“Hold on, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He watched as I added a second finger, his eyes dark with desire. He gently caressed my arm, his fingers feather light on my skin. I could tell he was getting worked up. He tongue ghosted his lips and his eyes fell shut. He threw his head back on the pillow with an impatient whine—he was ready.

I dragged him down the bed a few feet and pulled his legs over my shoulders. His lips were parted and he spread his arms out across the bed—he looked like a sacrificial offering, his gaping pucker waiting to be worshiped. My heart sped up in anticipation of taking him. 

I finally… _finally_... pushed into Elio, the sensation like climbing into a warm bath on a frigid day. I pressed his hands above his head, holding him down almost brutally, and fucked him the way he loved and deserved to be fucked: thoroughly and decisively.

Elio sometimes wanted to be in charge, but more often, he just needed to be taken.

Elio was not a quiet lay, and our windows were open wide on this hot August afternoon. Our neighbors most likely heard Elio yell my name and several choice expletives multiple times as we fucked for close to a half hour. But, to be honest, they were probably used to it by now (or would soon learn to be).

I released his hands then clutched his shoulders as I drove into him, harder and deeper with each thrust of my hips. He suddenly grabbed his leaking cock and started stroking it in a frenzy of movement.

“I’m close, Oliver… fuck, fuck, fuck!” His fist was a blur of motion, and his words sent me over the edge that I had been teetering on. I felt my balls tighten, then that sweet sensation of release washed over me as I came into Elio with an intensity that was still a shock to my system every time it happened. A ribbon of come shot out of him onto my chest, mixing with the beads of sweat already covering me. I collapsed onto Elio, both of our chests heaving with exertion.

We lay like that for a moment, catching our breath, but I knew I was most likely crushing his thin frame. I rolled off of him, but gathered him in my arms. He started to snuggle into me, but stopped to take deep whiff, wrinkling his nose.

“Dude. You stink. You need a SHOWER!”

I laughed and pulled him even closer, making sure at that he was thoroughly covered in my stench. I kissed the top of his head.

“You’re a little shit, but I love you.”


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the end of this particular Elio's and Oliver's stories. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was nervous writing my first E/O fic, but I found that I really enjoyed playing Master to the activities and lives of Elio and Oliver. This may be not be my last! 
> 
> Thank you to all my readers for supporting this story, and for every Kudos and comments (I love comments!). And thank you to be Beta Reader, @hendricksplease, for her superior knowledge of punctuation and verb tenses!

Chapter 16

Epilogue

May, 1986

I woke up early one bright spring morning and carefully slipped out of bed, leaving Elio snoring softly, buried under a mountain of blankets. Elio was oblivious to what day it was, but for me, it was too important of a date to be forgotten: May 23. It was the day Elio came literally crashing back into my life, black-out drunk, exactly one year ago. We already had other important anniversaries to celebrate: the day he forgave me in Italy, the day we said “I love you” for the first time, the day he moved in with me. But none of those milestones would have been possible without this one.

As I pulled on some socks and sweats, I reflected back on that night in wonder, as I often do. What if any one thing had been different in that four hour span of time? If I had decided not to go out, if I had gone to a different bar, if I had gone home early, if I had turned down that blond boy (Steve? Scott?) when he had asked me to dance… if any of those things had played out differently, I would not have been there to drag Elio off of the dance floor at the moment he needed me. What would have happened to him that night if I hadn’t been there? Would someone else have helped him, or would he have gotten hurt? And what would have transpired differently in my own life?

For one thing, I could be a father right now. That thought more than any other makes my blood run cold. How unfair it would have been to both Rachel and to the innocent child. To have a reluctant, possibly resentful father, who was living a lie? If I had felt trapped before, becoming a parent would have been the final nail in the coffin of my life.

I took one last look at Elio and thought for the millionth time: this man is _everything _to me. 

An hour later, I was back in our apartment, arranging the bouquet of flowers I had picked up and shmearing one of the bagels I had bought with a layer of cream cheese, then a light layer of Nutella, just the way Elio liked. I worked quickly, concerned that he would wake while I was still preparing his surprise, but I shouldn’t have worried. He was still a 20-year old college student--he usually slept until noon when he didn’t have class. It was a Friday, and normally I would be at work preparing for finals week. However, I had asked for the day off months ago. I knew that I would want to spend the day with Elio.

I arranged the vase, plate of food, and a mug of coffee on a tray, feeling a bit like a child getting ready to surprise his mom on Mothers’ Day. I wanted it to be perfect, even though it was silly--Elio would be happy with a Pop-tart and a blow-job.

I balanced the tray on one arm, cracked open the door, and peaked in. Elio was just waking; he had kicked the blankets to the bottom of the bed and was stretching across the width of the mattress like a giant, naked toddler. When he heard the door open, he sat up with crusty eyes and a sleepy smile.

“Hey you. I was just about to wonder where you’d gone to,” he said with a yawn.

“Close your eyes,” I commanded.

I should have known better than to try and boss Elio around. His curiosity was immediately piqued. “Close my… why? What are you up to, Oliver?”

I sighed in exasperation. “Please, Elio? Just… close them.”

He finally did as he was told, shutting his eyes then covering them with a hand for good measure. He leaned against the headboard, waiting with an eager grin. Elio loved surprises. I stepped fully into the room holding out the tray, trying to not let it wobble. “Okay, open your eyes. Happy one year anniversary, baby.”

Elio released his hand and looked over to where I was standing with his breakfast and flowers. His mouth fell open. “Oliver! Oh my god! But… one year?” His face scrunched up as he seemed to be doing some mental math.

I walked over and carefully placed the tray over his naked waist. “One year since I saw you at Rawhide. One year that you have been back in my life.”

Understanding dawned across his face. He leaned over to inhale the scent of the bluebells and cornflowers arranged in the vase. I had searched and found some of the types of flowers that Annella had grown at the villa. “Reminds me of home,” he said wistfully.

He took a small sip of the piping hot coffee, then added, “One year since I woke up, totally fucking confused in this very bed. Man, that was a trip. And then the door opened, and there you were. I thought I was dreaming… or deliriously drunk.”

“Well, you _were_ still very drunk. Do you remember trying to kiss me? God, I was so tempted.” I sat down gingerly on the bed next to him and caressed his bare leg with my hand. “But that would have been very wrong.” 

Elio took a big bite of his bagel. “I wouldn’t have complained,” he retorted between chews. He swallowed and his eyes softened. “This is really nice, Oliver. Thank you.”

I felt my heart melt at his smile. This was just breakfast. Didn’t he know that I would do literally anything for him? I reached over and brushed my lips against his. “You’re welcome. I love you. So, I had an idea of something we could do tonight to celebrate…”

Elio’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Something kinky?”

I laughed. Elio’s brain never wandered far from sex. “Maybe that, too. But I had another idea. What are you always bugging me to do?”

Elio thought a bit. “69?”

I snorted and shoved his leg. “No, the _other _thing you are always bugging me to do!”

Elio’s face lit up as he realized what I had in mind. “Go dancing? Oliver, you’ll take me dancing tonight?!” We _did _go dancing, sometimes, but not nearly as often as Elio would like.

I nodded with a smile. “I’ll brave Rawhide with you tonight. It’s a special occasion.”

I left him to finish his breakfast, and to get some coffee and a bagel for myself. A few minutes later, I heard my name being called from the bedroom—Elio was summoning me. I opened the door to find that he had finished his meal, discarded the tray onto the floor, and was lazily stroking his cock. I leaned against the doorframe to watch my gorgeous naked boyfriend bring himself to a full erection.

“Done with your breakfast, I take it?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Elio grinned. “I was thinking of taking a shower. You want to join me?”

Minutes later, we were wedged into our tiny shower, a spray of hot water soaking us. I had Elio turned with his chest pressed against the wall. I rubbed my soap-slicked hands everywhere I could reach: up his thin but muscular arms, across his broadening shoulders, down his long, smooth back, then over his curved ass. My hands covered his cheeks completely; I couldn’t stop myself from squeezing them, then sliding one slippery finger deep into his crevice, teasing his pucker. He gasped, but pushed back on my digit, forcing it to slip deeper into his warm hole, still loose from our activities the night before. I kissed his neck and my finger slid in and out of him. He moaned in appreciation, reaching around to grab my thickening cock.

“Mmm, fuck me, Oliver,” he gasped, always so needy. Not that I would ever complain. A second finger joined my first as I quickly opened him up. He was wide and ready for me. We had to be fast; my water heater was not that large and the last thing I wanted was to be fucking in a freezing shower. I spread Elio’s ass cheeks, positioned my dick right at his hole, and plunged into him. My entire cock was quickly encased inside his fleshy depths, and oh my god, would I ever get used to how good and tight this felt?

“JESUS!” Elio shouted, as I pushed him flush against the shower wall. I had to laugh at his choice of swear word, then I wrapped my arms around his chest and began to fuck him in earnest. His breath expelled in more stuttered expletives, his cheek flattened to the tile, bobbing slightly as I thrust hard into him, again and again. I felt primal, breeding Elio like a wild animal, and I bit and sucked at his neck while the water ran down our bare bodies. He pushed back against me, forcing me deeper into him, and also making space so he could grab his cock.

I swatted his hand away. “No, let me,” I grunted into his ear, wrapping my fingers around his slippery rod of flesh. His hips immediately began rutting aggressively into my fist; I could tell he was close. I fastened my mouth onto his shoulder and focused on fucking him. My own orgasm was building quickly; I could feel it welling from my balls to my belly, all the way to my toes. 

“Fuck, I’m coming, Elio,” I gasped, and I pulled him tight to me as my release shot into him. I kept working his dick and seconds later, he grunted, a thick rope of come painting our shower wall. Elio wilted in my arms.

I turned him to face me, needing to feel his soft petal lips on mine. We kissed for a few second, but the water was already cooling. He shivered in my arms, so I reached over to turn off the water.

“I’ll grab us towels,” I murmured into his wet curls. He looked like a puppy dog who had been left out in the rain, adorable and a bit pathetic. I used my long reach to grab him a towel first, wrapping him up like a plush burrito.

He gave me a soft smile. “You take such good care of me, Oliver.”

I wrapped my arms around him. I was still cold, wet and naked, but I didn’t care. “And I always will,” I whispered.

*****

We spent a lazy day watching movies. I let Elio pick, and after careful consideration, we shared our afternoon with Corleone family. We both fell asleep at some point and, when we woke, I made steaks and baked potatoes for dinner. Then it was time to get ready for our night out. Elio plodded to the bedroom and began to paw through our closet, shirtless, trying to find something to wear.

“All my clothes are dirty,” he grumbled.

I smirked. “Well, maybe you need to do laundry once in a while.”

He rolled his eyes, repeating in a mocking voice, “Maybe you need to do laundry once in a while.”

I threw a dirty sock at him. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

He yanked a shirt off of a hanger. One of mine, I could see. “Whatever. I’ll just wear this.”

He did that often, borrowed my shirts, not caring that my clothes were a size or two too big. He loved wearing anything that belonged to me. I didn’t mind at all--I adored seeing him in my clothes. And once he wore it, I would be the one to wash it, which he liked even more, I suspected. He chose a green shirt which, I had to admit, looked really good on him. Since moving in with me, he had continued to work-out with his ex-roommate a few times a week, and it was actually close to fitting him. I walked over and nibbled on his ear.

“You look hot. You’re going to get all the attention tonight.”

He swatted me away. “Bullshit. You know every time we go out, all eyes are on you. Pretty boy.”

I laughed; it was true. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

*****

An hour later, we were waiting at the bar inside Rawhide. It was still early and not too crowded. Elio was in an experimental phase with his drinking, trying a new cocktail every time we went out. I got my usual, a vodka martini, and ordered him something called an Alabama Slammer. I grabbed the glasses from the bar and tried a sip of Elio’s; it was sickly sweet. I slid it to him with a grimace.

Elio knew I needed at least a slight buzz to dance, so we found some seats to have our drinks and watch the crowd. There was no better people-watching than at Rawhide. It seemed to be Leather Night… or perhaps every night was Leather Night at Rawhide. Elio pointed at a rather buff guy in leather chaps and shouted in my ear, “I’d love to see you in a pair of those!” I waggled my eyebrows at him in response.

Three drinks later, I could feel my limbs loosening up. Elio had been bopping in his seat for the better for part of the hour, eager to get to the dance floor, and attracting the attention of every man that walked by. Lucky for me, he was patient and willing to wait for my mood to catch up to his. Eventually my favorite Billy Idol song came on and I stood up, ready to brave the sweaty masses.

“Ready to dance?” I shouted over the din of Billy Idol letting everyone know that he was dancing with himself.

Elio jumped out of his seat as if springs were attached to his shoes. He grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dance floor, not even bothering to respond to my question. As always, it was like a living, breathing organism, made up of sweaty, half-bare bodies. I would never admit it to Elio, but I actually really enjoyed it. The music vibrated and pulsed; we could feel it as much as we could hear it. I began to jump to the beat, watching as Elio unbuttoned first his own shirt, then reaching over to unbutton mine. He did this every time we went dancing. The first time I had tried to stop him, feeling modest and shy, but he insisted. _Look around you_, he had shouted. I had, and he was right. Half the men on the dance floor were shirtless, and all of them were free.

Once he reached the last button, he slid his hands around my waist, pulling our bare torsos together. We gyrated like that, making out like high schoolers at a school dance. I could feel the blood starting to rush between my legs, and I drew him even closer, lifting him up so our cocks dragged together. He moaned into my mouth.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Professor Weiss,” he teased.

I was just about to respond when the first notes of Spandau Ballet’s “True” reverberated through the speakers—the song that had played at La Danzing the night we had partied there. I suddenly remembered how we had sat on the sidelines while others danced, not feeling as if we should be so intimate in that setting. I had hoped for a time when we would be able to hold each other in public and not hide how we felt and who we were to each other. It seemed that that time had finally come.

I buried my face in the crook on Elio’s neck, feeling sappy and sentimental, two emotions that I was unaccustomed to experiencing with Elio at Rawhide. He raked his fingers through my sweaty hair and held me close as we slowly rocked to the music.

“You okay?” he asked into my ear.

I pulled back, trying to see the green of his eyes in the dark of the club. My heart felt so full in that moment, and I knew that there was really no way for me to communicate just how _okay_ I was feeling. But that was alright… I had the rest of our lives to show Elio not only how much I worshiped him, but how thankful I was that he stumbled back into my life, saving me from my own personal coma. A half-life of lies and deception. Instead, he showed me and shared with me the life that I was meant to live, filled with honesty and sensuality and laughter and, of course, love. I nodded to reassure him, then rested my head on top of his, savoring the last few notes of what would probably be the only slow song of the night. 

We each got one last drink, and by the end of the night, were both plastered. As we were getting ready to leave, Elio followed me into the men’s room and pushed me against a wall. I gasped in happy shock as he pulled my pants down, then sucked me off with such thoroughness that I almost gave myself a concussion banging my head against the bathroom tile. I glanced around the dark area to see if anyone was watching us, but all the other men were engaged in their own sordid activities. Elio stood back up with pride on his face, wiping his mouth of any remnants of my come.

“Let’s get out of here,” he slurred with a smirk on his lips, “I want you to take me home and fuck me.”

What did I ever do to deserve him? This beautiful, talented, horny, amazingly sexy nymph of a man? I might not ever know, but I was going to spend the rest of my life making sure that I was worthy of him.


End file.
